


Father Figure

by Over8000, Under8000



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcohol, Cheating, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Neglect, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drinking, Drugs, Drunk Sex, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fatherhood, Gen, Infidelity, Multiple Partners, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Saiyan Culture, Saiyans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:44:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Over8000/pseuds/Over8000, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Under8000/pseuds/Under8000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bardock was a rising star in the Saiyan Army. His life was perfect, so the last thing he wanted was to be tied down, or to become someone's father. Then, the choice was made for him and he had to redefine how he thought about family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Problem with Gine

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where Credit is due:  
> Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me kind permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.
> 
> Phrases and words used in this chapter:  
> atti - baby or sweetheart  
> br’at - child  
> f’ri - no  
> ge’tah - friend or ally  
> heu - gods  
> jaja - daddy  
> posh’ri - liquor  
> ta’fru - brothers  
> *----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

"Hey Chiv, _posh'ri_ me."

The barkeep filled a dented tankard with ale, set it in front of Bardock, then grinned. The man was missing two teeth from the last time they had tussled. As with most fights, it was not personal.

"Haven't seen you in here for a while, Dock. Thought you got dead or buggered off to some other dive."

Bardock snorted in response and took a sip of his drink. "Ah hell no. That'd be cheating."

He scanned the bar for his squad. He found Topato, Toma and Fasha sitting in their usual dark corner, probably already well on their way to getting smashed. The tall warrior waved one hand in their direction and picked up his mug.

Chiv coughed, not too subtly. "Where you going? That's not free, _ge'tah_. Pay up."

"Put it on my tab," Bardock snickered.

"You don't _have_ a tab any more, Bardock. You owe me three hundred credits."

Bardock thought for a moment, then grinned. "Well in that case ... put it on Toma's." The captain pointed towards his compatriots with his tail, then laughed.

" _Jik'hi_ ... You're an asshole," Chiv said.

"Yeah. I hear that a lot." Bardock wrapped his tail around his waist and sauntered away, beer in hand, ready to start a night of drinking and carousing with his squad. Hell, they deserved it.

Bardock and his team liked to party at Chiv's dive after every mission, and whenever else they could get away from work. The tavern was a dirty hellhole in the slums of Sector Three, a place frequented equally by soldiers and drunkards alike. Often, they were the same people.

The floors were sticky, the air was smoky and reeked of blunt and body odor, and the screens blared so loud that you could not hear yourself think. The booze was watered down but cheap and plentiful, which is why Bardock and his crew frequented the place. They were the target audience: low level warriors who had spent most of their lives eking out a living in the Saiyan army and then slaving for the Frieza Force.

When Bardock wandered over, he was greeted with raised mugs and welcomes. He took the last seat at the table, and looked at his comrades, the people with whom he spent the majority of his time and for whom he had risked his life repeatedly.

"Glad you made it. Thought you fell into some bitch's snatch, or perhaps Gine's." Fasha's voice had a bitter edge. She glared at Bardock, snapped her tail once, and dared him to contradict her statement.

Bardock was popular among the females, and was well known as a player. Like most Saiyans, he slept with multiple partners and had no permanent attachments, and that was how he liked it. Fasha had seen it as a challenge in the beginning, and had pursued him for years. They had screwed once, and then Bardock had cut it off. Fasha was still bitter about it, but (most of the time) did not let it interfere with the group's cohesiveness.

At the mention of their newest squad member, Bardock gritted his teeth. He did not want to get into another argument with Fasha.

" _F'ri_. I was dealing with Command. Trying to get us bumped up the mission list. You know how that goes. I hate dealing with Zarbon ... I always feel like I need a shower afterwards." At the thought of the sycophantic blue aide, Bardock shuddered. _"Heu,_ I need to get drunk."

At that cue, they raised up their glasses. Bardock and his squad were celebrating their latest conquest on Planet Sorbal - an unsolved mission that had been on the books for months. In one night the five of them had razed the planet and devastated the entire population - a job that had stymied other less experienced crews. Zarbon had given them three days, and had told them to their faces that he did not expect them to return. Not only did they succeed, but they had returned ahead of schedule, shocking the dandy blue man, and setting a new purge record. Zarbon had been pissed, but Lord Frieza had been so very amused.

"To kicking ass, once again. To us, to _ta'fru, to ji'ta ch_!" Toma roared, and raised his overflowing mug to his comrades in a salute.

They clashed their glasses together, spilled alcohol on their hands and the table. Bardock took a swig, enjoyed the feel of the cold liquid going down his throat. It was the dry season on Vegetasai; it was fucking hot outside. and he was sensitive to the heat. Buckets of sweat ran down his forehead. Inside the bar was a sauna, heated by all the bodies.

Soon, Bardock was pleasantly buzzed due to the combination of the heat and copious amounts of alcohol imbibed in a short time. He kicked back in his seat, put his hands behind his head, and lit up a nicstick. Smoke poured from his nostrils, and he allowed himself to relax.

It was the booze talking, but as he partied and talked with his teammates, Bardock felt a growing connection with them. They had been together for years; fought and saved each other's backs more times than he could count. These four Saiyans were the closest thing he had to family, and he would do anything to bring them back safe every time.

He knew perhaps some would see that as a sign of weakness, but the strong bonds they shared were their secret weapon, and made them into one, almost to the point of reading each others' minds in battle. It was what made them so effective, and so deadly. They were raising up the ranks in the Force quickly. There was only one problem, and its name was Gine.

Gine had been assigned to their squad, overriding Bardock's authority and pissing him off. He had not asked for or needed another fighter. She was the daughter of General Skallon, one of the highest ranking members of the Saiyan Army. As such, Bardock had no choice but to suck it up and accept her presence on his team.

It became clear that Gine, although she came from a noble warrior bloodline, did not possess the fighting spirit. More than one mission had almost been scrapped due to her incompetence, and Bardock having to save her ass. This was a becoming a serious problem that created tension in the group; as Captain, Bardock knew he would have to deal with it soon before it boiled over.

Panbukin came in last. Bardock waved him over, and poured him an ale. As he sat down, the rotund man scanned the bar and wiped sweat off his pudgy cheeks with one meaty hand. "Damn, it's hotter than balls out there. Hey, where's the weakest link? She too good to drink with us low levels?"

Bardock gritted his teeth, and his tail lashed in irritation. "Leave off of her, Panbuken. She had to go back home, take care of her _br'at_. Besides, what do you care? You don't like her anyway."

"Touchy, Doc ... Something we need to know about?" Panbuken grinned, then exchanged tail bumps with Topato.

Bardock just growled, puffed up the hair of his tail, then drained his glass. He refilled it from one of the pitchers on the ring stained table.

"Fucking nepotism," Fasha scowled. "She's only with us because of her _Jaja_. She can't fight, she keeps messing up, and she's going to get one or all of us dead. She's useless, Bardock. You're the Captain and you _need_ to take care of it. And before you say it - this isn't just me being pissed at you. It's a fact. She's a fuck up."

They all muttered. No one had wanted to bring up the subject, clearly. Bardock sighed, felt annoyed, then looked around the table. "You all feel this way?"

"Yeah, Dock." Toma - his closest ally - spoke up. "We all hoped you'd see it, and get rid of her on your own. But ... look Dock, we all know something's going on between you and her. It's obvious, or else you would have tossed her on her ass months ago. You're allowing her weakness to compromise you, compromise us. It's dangerous."

"There's nothing - "

"Don't deny it, Bardock," Fasha snapped, and cut him off. "Don't fucking lie to us. You can do who and what you want ... but don't let it fuck up our squad." She crossed her arms and turned her face from him. "You know what burns my ass, Dock? You told me that you didn't get involved with squad members."

Damn it. Bardock sucked smoke into his lungs, then coughed. Gine was probably right that those things were bad for him. "Fasha, it's complicated. Okay?"

"Just ... fix it." Fasha stared into her mug, the lit up a blunt. The acrid smell brought back memories. "Stop letting your personal shit mess up your judgment before we all don't come back."

Could it be true, could he be so blinded that he was missing the obvious, playing favorites? Bardock sat in silence, his good mood gone. No one said anything else, and he mulled things over for a while, examined the situation with a strategist's eye, instead of allowing his personal wants to cloud his judgement. He owed it to the others.

Damn... He did not want to admit it, but Fasha was right. Gine was a problem. If it had been any one else screwing up, Bardock would have raised hell to Command and replaced them after the first fuck-up. But ... then the General had 'strongly suggested' that Captan Bardock - the rising star of the Saiyan Army - could straighten her out, and that putting her in with the Elite squad would bring her up to snuff.

It didn't work. The squad had hated Gine from the moment they saw her. She was small, petite, and completely non-threatening. She, like most adult Saiyans, had been trained in combat but had only joined the Army at the insistence of her father. On their first mission, she had balked during a crucial moment of the battle; her hesitation had almost cost the team their lives. Bardock had been forced to save her ass, and he had been carrying her weight ever since. At first, she had tried to be 'one of the guys' - drank and smoked and partied with them, but she quickly realized she was unwanted in their social gatherings.

It was during that time period that Bardock had gotten to know her better, it was his job to. She came to his small flat and they trained in private, in the hopes that she would catch on and find her warrior spirit. As time passed, they began to forge a connection. Somewhere along the line, Bardock became ... fond of her, felt a kind of sympathy for her. But Gine still could not fight.

A few months ago, Bardock decided that it was time to fire Gine, in spite of what General Skallon might think. He had his people to think of, and his career. He had invited her over, and tried to break the news to her. She had become upset, and Bardock, always the ladies' man, had comforted her. After that, they had progressed to a more "personal" relationship when it was just the two of them. On mission, they put on a great act that they were just comrades, and nothing else, but no one was fooled.

Now, he wanted to deny it all: that he was not making poor choices, that he had not been influenced, that Gine meant nothing, but now that his _ge'tau_ were confronting him, he realized that he _had_ compromised them all. Bardock, the consummate playboy, had feelings for the small female ... and he was ashamed of them. He had hidden the truth not only from his team, but from himself.

"Fuck. You're right. I'm going to take care of it," Bardock promised. He took a large drag of his nic only to find it had burnt down to nothing, and he scorched his fingers. He hissed, then put it out.

He was not looking forward to the upcoming confrontation. Gine would likely cry, and he always caved when she did. He would seek to console her, comfort her, and then they would invariably end up in bed together. His cheeks flushed as he thought about holding her in his arms, and blamed it on the drink. What is wrong with me, feeling this way about any one woman ...

"Well, here's your chance, Captain." Toma elbowed him and pointed towards the entrance.

When Fasha noticed the other female, she gave Bardock a sharp, almost predatory smile that exposed her canines. "Have fun, Doc."

At that moment, Bardock wanted nothing more than to punch her in the face.

Gine came in to the bar, her expression grim as she scanned the room. When she saw Bardock and the others, she put on a frown and marched towards them, her shaggy head down. She wore off-duty clothes: a modified version of the battle chest plate with reinforced skirting, and sleek leggings that emphasized her shapely limbs. The outfit was meant to be casual but was far too upscale for this place - and even when she tried to fit in, she never quite managed it. Gine was too foreign, too gentle, too ... not what the rest of them were, and she knew it.

Red blotches marred her cheeks as she approached the squadron and came up to Bardock. Her tail lashed angrily, her brows drawn together in concern, and her hands were clenched into balls. She was livid, but she just managed to look laughable - all five feet worth of her.

"Bardock," she started, and made eye contact with him. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

Bardock. Not 'Captain, not 'sir' ... she had addressed him on familiar terms. It heralded bad things, and Bardock shifted in his seat. The rest of the team watched and waited for the drama to begin, for him to man up and smash her down, throw her out like he should.

He did not mean to, but he laughed. Then he saw the look of hurt on her face, even thought it only lasted a second. "Funny thing ... I need to talk to you too."

"This isn't a laughing matter," Gine's voice was so soft he almost could not hear. "I ... really would like to step outside, Bardock."

"Do you want a beer first," he offered. "I'll buy."

"No. No alcohol. Please, Bardock ... I don't want to talk in front of everyone."

Her black eyes bored into him, pleaded with him, and Bardock gave in - as he always did with Gine (and wasn't that the problem). This was going to be embarrassing enough for the general's daughter, and she did not need to be humiliated with an audience watching.

Bardock exhaled, the smoke rolled from his nostrils, and he stood up. "I'll be back, _ge'tahu_. Go ahead and celebrate without me for now."

He nodded to Gine then started for the door, to go outside into the baking heat and crush her. Then he would have to justify his decisions to her powerful father and hope the man would not choose to punish him in turn.

Bardock formulated the story in his mind: how he would let her down gently, and let her know that it was not personal, it was business and was for her own personal safety. Gine knew she could not fight; they had talked about it many times, but actually throwing her off the squad was different thing. He would rather purge planets than tell this tiny female she was fired.

They stepped outside, to the dingy streets. The heat felt like a physical assault and Bardock immediately regretted his choice. Gine turned to him. Dark puffy circles lined her large eyes and she looked miserable. _Heu,_ this was going to suck, hardcore.

"Gine - "

"Bardock, I - "

They both spoke at the same time. Bardock put one hand behind his head and grinned, a nervous gesture. Gine's emotional state made him nervous in turn. "You go first, Gine."

She crossed her arms and drew in a shuddering breath, then her tail drooped. She looked so vulnerable that Bardock wanted to reach out, take her in his arms, tell her not to worry. Part of him hated that just being near Gine brought up those odd protective feelings. She looked up; he could see she was on the verge of crying, but fighting to keep up a tough appearance.

"Bardock ... I'm sorry to do this to you."

"Gine, _atti,_ what is it?" The term of endearment escaped before Bardock could stop it, and he reached out to her.

The physical contact broke Gine's reserve and her silence. A tear slipped down her cheek. I'll understand if you don't want to stick around, but you need to know. I'm ... I'm pregnant.


	2. Executive Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where Credit is due:  
> Many thanks to MegaKat for allowing me to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.
> 
> Phrases and words used in this chapter:  
> br'at - child  
> f'ril - fool  
> fri'va - asshole  
> ge'tahu - allies/friends  
> ji'ta ch - 'fighting family', a team  
> posh'ri - alcohol  
> t'ur - drunk/hammered

_"... Bardock ... I'm sorry to do this to you..."_

At first, he did not respond. He was struck speechless, as if she had punched him in the gut. All of the air escaped his lungs in a rush and he stood with his mouth hanging open like a witless _f'ril_. That moment hung suspended in time, like a gossamer strand that wavered almost unseen, stretching into forever. He felt like he was in a battle haze; all of the surrounding sights and sounds became enhanced, and time slowed down to a crawl.

"Bardock?" Gine looked up at him with her giant eyes, the long fringed eyelashes wet with potential tears waiting to be released by a word or gesture from him. "Did you hear me?"

When she spoke, the trance he had fallen into snapped, and time sped up again. He became aware of the oppressive nighttime heat, the glaring street lamps, the droning of vehicles transporting goods and troops to the nearby base. Roars of drunken laughter spilled out from the bar; he could hear Toma and Panbukin's voices raised in song, interspersed by Fasha's high pitched howls of amusement. They were inside having the time of their lives, sloshed to the heavens. Bardock, however, had lost his buzz.

He should have stayed inside with his comrades, carousing and laughing, and drowned in his ignorance. He should not have followed the small female. Hell, he should have fled the minute he saw her coming. His _ge'tahu_ had warned him time and time again, and he had not listened.

"Don't just stand there. Say something ... please." Gine rung her hands. Her voice was thick with emotion, and the effort of holding back her tears.

How in the _hell_ could this have happened? Bardock knew the actual mechanics; he was well versed in them (just ask any woman in Sector Five), but it should not have happened at all. Saiyan females were responsible for regulating their fertility cycles, and Bardock had made _damn_ sure to let Gine know that he was not looking to be someone's _ja'ta_. He did not want children, at least not now. He did not need anyone or anything tying him down on his rise to the top, and a _br'at_ would definitely do that. The only people that Captain Bardock, star of the Saiyan army wished to be held responsible for were his _ji'ta ch_ , his chosen family.

Gine had promised him that she was not in her fertile time, that she already had one _br'at_ and was not looking to expand her family. If she had said otherwise, Bardock would not have become involved with her ... or at least, he liked to think so. In truth, their relationship had not been planned, and once they had started, he could not and would not have wanted to turn back. Something about the petite female entranced him and kept him entangled.

His first instinct was to ask if it was his, but Gine was not like the rest of them. She was a High Class warrior, of good breeding, and she - unlike Bardock - did not sleep around. Of _course_ it was his. To imply otherwise would offend the soft hearted woman, then she would cry.

If Gine cried, he would be undone.

"Before you ask, you're the only one I've slept with. I'd hoped you'd be happy, but ... I know you value your freedom. I want you to know that I'm not expecting anything from you. I'm not even expecting us to stay together. Say something, Dock ... please?"

 _This can't be happening to me, not now. We were so careful_. Bardock felt the buildings in the alleyway leaning in on him, closing the distance, trapping him.

"How long?" he managed to stutter, and felt like a colossal ass. He placed his hands behind his head and plastered a cocky grin on his face that was slick with cold sweat, even though he was sweltering. He reached into his chestplate and extracted a nic, now soaked through with moisture and stuck it between his teeth. He snapped his fingers together and summoned a tiny burning sun - a parlor trick to impress the ladies, and damn useful as a lighter. He sucked in smoke, coughed, and tried to look nonchalant, although that was furthest from the truth.

A flash of anger flitted over Gine's rounded face, there and gone so quick that Bardock could not be sure if it had existed. Gine was too mild mannered, too passive to have actual rage. Right?

"Three months. I just found out. I had to tell you, Dock. I thought ... I thought ... " She began to hiccup, then the tears started rolling down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook, her tail hung limp between her legs and she looked broken, defeated. "... I just thought you should know."

Gine wiped the snot and tears away with one small manicured hand, then sniffled. She looked so damned _pitiful._

The female's obvious misery evoked an odd burning in his chest, a small fire to match the one he had just snuffed out. Bardock wanted to wrap her in his arms, pull her to him, and go back home ... Once again his face flushed, and he could not find any words. Gine, daughter of General Skallon, evoked such odd emotions in him, and Bardock was not good with feelings. Most Saiyans were not.

 _Don't touch her, Dock_ , he chided himself. _If I do, I don't know if I'll be able to walk away. Tapa, I've got to stop this now before I lose everything I've worked for, before I lose myself. Why can't I just ... fire the bitch ... What's wrong with me?_

Just then, Fasha stuck her head out of the doorway. Her short and spiky locks glowed in the neon lights, and her skin looked pale as scoured sand. She resembled one of the fierce desert predators when she bared her sharpened teeth in a rictus, then looked from Bardock to Gine. She looked so damn smug when she winked at him in a conspiratorial manner; she could have simply used their scouter frequency, but she just had to get personally involved.

"How's it going out here, Dock? We're waiting on you to buy the next round. You fire her ass yet," she purred, and chuckled deep in her throat.

Rage burned through Bardock, hot molten magma in his veins. He rounded on Fasha, closed the gap between them in one leap before she could react. He grabbed her by the front lip of her modified black chest plate and pulled her forward so quick that she lost her footing and stumbled.

"Shut the fuck up, Fasha," he roared, and bared his teeth in a display of dominance and authority. "And stop interfering!"

"Or what, Doc? That useless bitch should of hit the street by now. Did you pussy out again? I shouldn't have to do your dirty work, _Captain."_ Fasha cackled. She pried his fingers away, one by one, then turned her back towards him and walked back inside, laughing.

Infuriated, Bardock pulled in Ki and formed a ball in the palm of his hand. The intake of energy created a slight breeze that caressed his skin and ruffled his hair. How dare Fasha usurp his authority and insult him?

"Don't you walk away, Lieutenant," he snarled. The woman knew how to get under his skin. Always had, always would.

Fasha turned back, a smirk on her face, and placed her hands on her wide hips. She leaned forward a bit and tilted her head up. She did not react to his aggression.

"You'd better face me, Fasha, if you're going to run your mouth," he raged, and felt the muscles in his face twitch. Fasha had called him out, challenged him ... made him look ineffective as a leader, made him look ... weak. Was she getting revenge because he had shot her down all those years ago? The Ki pulsed, ready to be released and wreak devastation.

"I just call 'em like I see 'em, Captain. You going to frag me for telling the truth? Go ahead. So much for team solidarity. Now I'm going back inside to get my buzz back. If you're wise, you'll rejoin us." She jerked her tail towards the open, inviting door. "C'mon back, Bardock. You belong with us. _Ji'ta ch_."

From behind him, Bardock heard a loud wail of pure anguish and loss. It came from Gine, and it felt like a beam stabbing through his heart. "Stop it," she howled, "just stop it, Dock!"

He spun around quick, his responses amped up by adrenaline and those odd emotions. Gine stood with her feet apart, her shaggy hair stood up from emotion, her long tail puffed up and lashing. She had clenched her fists, and her aura flashed out. If only she had shown this sort of spirit on the battlefield. She strode up to him, came in close so that they would be nose to nose if he bent down.

"Now I know why you called me out here, Bardock. I just wish you had the nerve to tell me yourself, instead of getting Fasha to do your dirty work for you!"

"Gine ... I ..." Bardock felt a whisper of shame, and pity. Those tears ... those damn tears. He dismissed the attack and reached out one hand towards her.

"Don't... oh please, don't." Gine was sobbing now, her whole frame shook with the effort. "I get it. I really cared for you, and I thought you felt the same, but it's all about you, isn't it?"

"It's not like that," he insisted. But what could he say, that he was not a self centered bastard, that he would give up everything he had worked for one weak female? No, he knew better, and so did she.

Gine took in a shaky breath, then drew herself up to her full height, and saluted him: her right arm across her chest. Tears still streamed down her face.

"Captain Bardock, sir. I'm here to give you my resignation, starting immediately. Don't worry about _Ja'ta_ , I'll tell him it was my idea. Besides, I wouldn't be able to go on missions for long, anyways." She placed one hand on her stomach, where he could see a gentle swelling. How could he have missed the signs ... how could he not have known? "Goodbye, Bardock. Sorry to ruin your night."

When Bardock did not respond, Gine turned around on one heel, her spine straight, and walked away. He could hear her sobs as she left.

Bardock felt an odd numbness descend over him. She was leaving: leaving the team, leaving him ... letting him go free.

"Gine," he yelled, "wait!"

The small female did not answer, she just disappeared around a corner. It was as if someone had poured water over his head and snapped him back to reality. She was gone.

"Well, that could have been so much worse," Bardock laughed in a false show of bravado, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Problem solved; out of sight and out of mind."

Instead of relief, he felt confused, angry, upset ... so many mixed up thoughts, and he almost went after her. Bardock shook his head in negation, and scratched at his scalp. Fuck it. He did not need her, did not need the drama, did not need the complications ... although he hoped that General Skallon would not bust him back down to Private in revenge for canning his useless daughter.

Next, he just got pissed. What the hell was she trying to pull, trying to guilt trip him into taking her back, giving her yet another chance to fail? "That ... bitch!"

Now Bardock became righteously mad. He turned on his heel, glad to be rid of her and her whining and her failing and went back into Chiv's where the rest of his _ji'ta ch_ waited, in varying states of inebriation, for him to rejoin the party, although he doubted there was enough alcohol on Vegetasai to blot out the night's events.

 


	3. The Weakest Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where Credit is due:
> 
> Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me kind permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.
> 
> Phrases and words used in this chapter:  
> ja'ta -father  
> ji'ta ch - fighting team / unit  
> posh'ri - 'firewater', alcohol  
> *--------------------------------------------------------*

_"Tapa!_ Damn it, damn it, damn her, and good fucking riddance!" Bardock kicked the door back open and skulked back into Chiv's domain. His aura flared in response to his emotional state, and set off most of the patrons' scouters, causing them to glance up from their cups. He scowled at those who dared to look up as he passed them by and marched towards his team.

The large barkeep paused in wiping down the dented bar and frowned at the touchy soldier's overdramatic entrance, angered by the overt display of power.

"Hey Dock, if you're looking for a fight, do me a favor and take it outside. I just got this place fixed up from the last time," Chiv reminded, only to earn a scowl for his troubles and a dismissive tail flick.

"Bite me," Bardock replied, then flipped the older man an obscene gesture.

"Original," Chiv called, then grunted once and returned to his cleaning.

He and Bardock went way back; they had grown up together in one of the orphanages. Even though Chiv and Bardock had history, he never quite knew what would set the other male off. Even as a child, Bardock was known to have a mean streak when aggravated. And right now, it looked like Bardock was searching for an excuse - any excuse - to vent his anger.

Perhaps that small female Bardock had been consorting with over the last few months had found out about all of his other 'friends' and had finally shown him the metaphorical door. Chiv had learned to like Gine well enough over the past year, as well as one Saiyan could like another, and had noticed her absence during the last month or so.

As Bardock marched back to his table, he was so damn distracted that he missed the admiring glances of several of his usual female partners. He was _definitely_ off his game. His tail lashed in a violent arc and his eyes were dark as thunderclouds, dark as the internal conflict he felt. Like most Saiyan males, Bardock tended to solve his personal problems through action, not words; so the interaction with Gine not only left him with a sour taste in the back of his mouth, but unspent anger. His biggest problem had just solved itself, so why was he so unhappy?

"Well ... how did it go?" Fasha asked in a casual tone, as if they had not nearly come to blows just moments before. She leaned forward like a scavenger waiting for its next meal.

Bardock just picked up his glass - refilled by Toma in his absence - drained it without a word, then slammed it down on the worn surface and glared at his second in command. Sometimes he wanted to strangle her. He really did.

"Hey Dock, you look awful," Toma said. "What the hell happened? You were out there for a while." The tall man pulled on his ponytail as he spoke, then exchanged a glance with Fasha. The female turned away so that she did not have to meet Toma's dark eyes, and played with the shoulder strap of her breastplate instead.

"Oh, did you finally fire her?" Before Bardock could open his mouth to respond, Fasha pulled her stool up closer to him, invaded his personal space, and pushed the envelope. She tilted her head at a jaunty angle and licked her top lip with her tongue.

Fasha had a violent streak that matched his own, and she thrived on conflict too. It made her an effective second in command, but did not lend itself well to anything more .. well ... domestic. It was one of the reasons that a relationship between Bardock and her would not work out in the long run: too many bruises and too much aggression. _"Please_ tell me you did it, Doc."

Annoyed and frustrated by Fasha's meddling, he just wanted to put an end to the subject before he lost his temper. He and Fasha could get into it later, when he was not so furious that they might actually hurt each other. He leaned in and narrowed his eyes, his hands curled into claws upon the tabletop, and his tail lashed. Bardock's aura had not diminished, and most Saiyans would know it was time to back down. "Yeah, I fired her ass. You happy now? Now shut the hell up about it and drink."

"Yes, I am happy." Fasha crossed her arms across her ample bosom, and allowed her trademark smirk to spread across her face. Next, she kicked out her feet in a pose of complete relaxation, to show that she was not intimidated by Bardock. "Tell me, Dock, did she cry?"

"Enough," he roared, with more venom than he intended. He slammed one open palm down on the table and spilled everyone's drinks. "I didn't need your 'help' out there, Fasha. You just made it fucking worse!"

She shrugged, and gave him a sly grin. "Well, I'm just looking out for the welfare of the team. I am the second in command, after all."

The conversation ground to a sudden stop after that exchange; the team stared off in an awkward silence. No one had good conflict resolution skills that did not involve punching each other in the face.

Bardock lit up his last nicstick and smoked it in two long drags. He did not want to talk about Gine any more; he just wanted to get fucking blasted, then go home. He stared into his empty mug. "I've never needed to forget so bad in my life ... I need to get hammered. Your turn to get the pitchers, Topato."

On celebration nights, the team took turns buying drinks, which guaranteed that they all went home lit. The first round was carefully tracked, but as the night wore on, they tended to forget whose turn it was to buy.

"Sure thing, Dock." Topato rumbled, extracted himself painfully from the chair he had perched on, and rolled up front. He towered over everyone in the bar by a foot or so, and most people gave him a wide berth. A few minutes later, he returned with four filled pitchers, each dripping sweat from the humidity. They looked like oversized mugs in his gigantic hands.

Each member of the _ji'ta ch_ pulled a flagon towards themselves and refilled their own mugs. Bardock still stewed as he thought about Gine, about how terribly that had gone down. Right now that weak woman was wandering home, probably whining to her _ja'ta_ about how unfair life was. Would he even have a job the next day, or would he and the team show up only to be told they were off assignment, or worse ... that Bardock was no longer in command. Fasha would love that; she would get control of the team that Bardock had worked so hard to create and meld into one. Maybe Gine would be reassigned to them, wouldn't that would serve Fasha right.

_Ah shit. I can't be thinking like this. We're _ji'ta ch_ , and I can't let that General's daughter continue to fuck us up when we've seen her backside. All right, Dock ... no more pissing and moaning about it. You never have to see her again, no more bailing her ass out._

* * *

_Planet Mustara, Purge Hour 72_

_Bardock leapt back and dodged the incoming swipe. Sweat ran down his forehead, into his eyes and made them sting, but he did not have time to deal with it. The blow just missed his midsection; if he had been one second too slow in responding, he would have been eviscerated. With a twist of his lean body and a quick push of his Ki to get airborne, he leaped over and behind his foe, then unleashed a blue wave from his palm. The strike slammed into the exposed back of the native, knocked the beast down to the ground, and took him out of the fight for good._

_The reek of singed hair and burnt flesh seared his nostrils, but Bardock was not repulsed. It was the smell of being alive when his enemies fell before him, of the war song of combat in his blood, of his imminent victory. He would win. He always won, it was just a matter of time._

_He took the time to check his scouter, assess the current grouping of their enemies and decide where he needed to move his team, if in fact he did. They were a well trained and disciplined crew who moved as one, knowing how and when to act: to attack, to defend, to pull together as a whole to get the job done. They were the best for a reason._

_Bardock's team made planetfall four days ago, and the Mustarajin had been utterly at their mercy. The Saiyans had descended like angels of death, transformed into their terrifying Oozaru forms, and slaughtered the populace in a bloodbath. They had not seen it coming and had fallen with minimal resistance. Well, most of them._

_A small and lucky few managed to flee into an underground bunker where they had been holding off the purge team for over a day cycle. Without Oozaru, they were forced to break the fortress down piece by piece until nothing remained but a smoking crater. Only then did the survivors rush forth to their imminent doom, screaming in defiance to do battle face to face. The natives did not fight with Ki; they were tall, powerfully built, covered with a thick layer of fur, and sported nasty claws that they laced with potent toxins. Even if an opponent survived the initial blow, infection would set in fast, so the Saiyans had to be on their toes._

_In the back of his mind, Bardock kept tabs on their newest member: General's Skallon's youngest daughter. This was her sixth mission with the team; no one wanted to take her along, and for good reason. Even after all of Bardock's efforts, she was slow on the uptake, the least powerful out of the group and poor in strategy. She had to be hand fed instructions prior to the assault, and seemed incapable of making on the spot decisions. It took up Bardock's precious time and energy to keep her in his sights; he had to babysit her more than not. After the job was complete, he was going to chew her out good for costing them their bonus for early completion._

_In the fraction of a second that his mind wandered from combat, Bardock ate someone's fist. A new aggressor had leapt into the fray while Bardock was distracted; stuck the Saiyan so hard that his vision blurred, and grabbed him by the throat during the confusion. The towering beast smashed Bardock into the ground so he laid belly up and vulnerable, then raised one dagger hand. The creature roared, his hot breath in Bardock's face, spittle sprayed in his eyes._

_"Dock!" He heard Toma yell, and could sense his team reacting to their Captain's plight. But he could not and did not wait for help to arrive. Although downed and likely concussed, Bardock's fighting skill saved him from the next deadly swipe of talons that would have taken out his throat. He lashed out with his tail, wrapped it around the creature's wrist, and halted the blow. Then in an instant he pulled up his knees to his chest, placed his feet against the beast's abdomen and kicked out with all the force he could muster. Quick then, he fired off another Ki attack. It connected with the creature's head point blank, cut through the thick cranium and split it in half. The Mustarajin kept moving for a second until the body realized it was dead, then it fell forward, on top of Bardock._

_He pushed the corpse off and jumped back to his feet, wiping the blood off his face with one hand as he turned to meet the next opponent. Everything seemed painfully slow in battle time. Bardock turned and caught the incoming strike with both his hands, twisted his body and threw the man. One blast to the back and another defender fell, a smoking hole where its vital organs used to be. His breath came in short pants, and the adrenaline rushed through his veins._

_Bardock looked about for the locations of his teammates. He saw Toma in the air, providing aerial strikes. Fasha battled several giants in hand to hand, ducking and weaving, tearing through their numbers with quick strikes. Topato raged and smashed with his giant fists, back to back with Panbuken. Both were grinning and laughing, like most Saiyans, like Bardock himself, they lived for the battle._

_And then ... there was Gine. The petite female stood in place, instead of moving about. A look of terror was on her face as a hairy behemoth rumbled towards her, fangs bared and claws extended. Her reactions were too slow, she would not be able to deflect the blow. To make matters worse, she hesitated._

_"What the fuck are you doing, Private? Take the strike, now!" Bardock yelled. If he got the General's daughter dead, his career would be over faster than he could say 'nepotism.'_

_Gine's face was white with terror, her mouth a small moue, her eyes blank. She just froze, as if someone had put a bubble around her and stopped time. The combatant seemed to move in exquisite slow motion to Bardock's trained eye. It bared its teeth, lowered its head, and extended its claws to carve the petite female in half ... and then something strange happened. Seeing Gine in danger lit a fire in his chest._

She won't react in time, she's going to die ... I have to ... have to save her. _The intensity of the emotion confused him, terrified him. ... but he did not have the time to think on it, just to act._

_"Do it now, Private!" he howled, already moving in her direction; he hoped that Gine would snap out of it and respond._

_He put on a burst of speed, and transported himself forward and into the line of fire. With one hand, he knocked the terrified Private out of harm's way; she crashed to the ground and rolled, and he heard something snap as her shoulder dislocated. She would be broken and bruised but alive. Bardock raised his right hand, pulled in Ki to act as a shield, and pushed the wave out in a concussive blast._

Crunch ... _it was enough to prevent both strikes from cutting through him and Gine, but he did not have enough time to get out of harm's way entirely. The uppercut sliced into the left side of his face, tore open flesh, and cut into his left eye socket. Pain blossomed as he lost sight in that eye. But he knew he was damned lucky that was all that had happened._

_Bardock screamed in battle rage and dodged the incoming bite. He did not see the attack so much as he sensed it from instincts honed over the years on the battlefield. Blood poured down his face, down his neck and into the front of his blue-black armor, and soaked him. He knew his eye was gone, and he would do the rest of the mission with half his vision missing. He had to end the fight fast. The toxins would set in quick and he needed to administer an antidote soon before he passed out._

_"Dooooock!" Toma howled. Toma, his oldest ge'tah, always there when Bardock needed him. A blast from the tall man's extended palm ended the fight, and the creature fell smoking at Bardock's feet. His body had already started to shake. He squatted down, pulled an ampule from his left waist cover pouch and slammed it into his thigh. He injected the antitoxin and felt the cool liquid bite into his muscle._

_Toma rushed up, offered him a hand. "You okay, Dock?"_

_"Never better." Bardock ignored the help. He ripped off a section of cloth from his blue leggings, then wrapped it around his marred face to quell the bleeding. Immediately, it soaked through. "I had 'em where I wanted him."_

_"I know you did," the lean man stated. "Just doing my job." He continued to fire at the incoming combatants while Bardock tended to his wounds. Bardock did not need to ask, Toma just knew what to do._

_Bardock then looked for the reason he had gotten fucked up in the first place: that damned weak female._

_Gine sat upright, her armor covered in gore and blood. Her large eyes stared off, and her breath came in short bursts. She was unresponsive when Bardock waved a hand in front of her face. What the ever living hell was wrong with her? A quick visual inspection revealed no obvious injuries, outside of the dislocated shoulder, so why wasn't she responding? He'd had enough of her cowardice, of her nonsense. Her father was a war hero, how was she so fucking weak?_

_"Private Gine! Wake the fuck up!"_

_Gine blinked, and her face became animated, as if she had just woken up from a dream. Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes as she noticed Bardock staring down at her, a scowl on his face. "What - I'm so sorry, Captain ... oh gods, I froze. Didn't I?"_

_"No shit. Get up and fight. We're in active combat! And the next time you freeze in battle I'll kill you myself." Bardock did not wait for her to stand. He grabbed her by the arm, hauled her to her feet and flung her screaming back into the midst of the fight._

* * *

"... round ... Hey Dock, you in there? Vegetasai to Doc ..."

Bardock came out of his reverie with a snap. Toma and Topato stared at him with drunken concern. One finger traced the jagged scar on his left cheek that served as a continual reminder of how much Gine had cost him. He had sat still for so long that that beads of condensation on the outside of his glass had run down and formed a growing puddle.

"Yeah ... just - um - thinking about that purge, the one where I got this scar." Bardock sighed, and took a long swig from his now warm beverage. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, but _posh'ri_ was _posh'ri_ , no matter how flat or warm it had become, and one did not waste alcohol.

"What a cluster fuck that was," Toma echoed Bardock's thoughts. "Glad we're rid of her. She was holding us back."

"I know," Bardock said, but without much conviction.

The battle on Mustara had been won, but it had cost the team their respect and Bardock his pride. It had been the turning point where Bardock started to realize that, in spite of how he felt about her, she had to go; he had not wanted to admit it then. Instead of manning up, he kept compromising the team, gods help him, all for one female (her arms around his waist, her body pressed against his) because they could not afford to be on Skallon's bad side.

In truth, that was not the reason he kept Gine on ... not really, if he had stopped to look at the situation with unbiased eyes. His team always knew, but he had refused to listen. And now, the decision was made and there was no going back. Not that he wanted to. Of course.

They drank until they could not see straight, then they drank some more until one by one, they began to drift off into the humid night.


	4. Group Cohesion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credit where Credit is due:  
> Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me kind permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.
> 
> Phrases and words used in this chapter:  
> br'at - child  
> ge'tahu - allies  
> ja'ta -father  
> ji'ta ch - fighting team / unit  
> posh'ri - a specific kind of Saiyan alcohol

Panbuken was the first to leave the festivities. He arose from his seat, a moving mountain of flesh, most of it pure muscle. Those who thought he was out of shape were sadly mistaken. The rotund man drained the remnants of his drink, then raised a hand in farewell. "See you tomorrow for assignment, _ge'tahu._ "

Soon after, Topato ran a dirty cloth over the top of his head and face to mop the sweat off. His pale skin looked ashen and blotchy in the harsh lighting. "Think I'm done for the night, too." He tail bumped with Toma, Fasha and Bardock, then stumbled out the door and into the humid night.

Toma, always the least drunk out of the squad (that was not saying much), excused himself and wandered up front for a piss, the next round, and something to mix in with all that alcohol.

After twenty minutes or so … although no one was counting … Toma had not returned. Bardock wondered if the man had fallen in and they needed to rescue him, but then he saw Toma chumming it up with others in the back, and the Captain returned to his mug. Now, only he and Fasha remained and both were plastered and unstable. Bardock was either a happy drunk, or an angry drunk. Right now, it was the latter as he continued to bitch about Gine to the person who wished to hear it least.

"Shouldn't have slept with her, Dock. I told you she was only going to mess things up. But you never listen." Fasha rested her chin in the palm of one hand.

"I know it was a stupid idea, thanks for pointing that out. _Again_."

"Glad to help. She was trying to manipulate you, Dock. You know that, right?" Fasha pointed out, and waved her mug in his direction. "I mean, come on. Bitch can't fight, so she had to get _something_ over you. And everyone knows pussy goes a long way with you, Captain."

Bardock did not take offense to her statement. Why object to something that was true? But it angered him that Gine seemed to have an upper hand, and he did not understand why or how it had happened. He thought for a moment.

"It's like she drugged me or something, Fasha. I mean, what the hell! She's just another female, and it's not like I don't have my choice. Right? Right. It's like I just couldn't stop it. She cried and ... psshht … that was it." Bardock waved his hand in an exaggerated gesture and sloshed _posh'ri_ over his forearm and became more livid as he ranted. "She just wanted to tie me down, tame me, make me responsible! I never wanted a kid or anything like that. I ain't no one's daddy. It's bad for business. Fucks with our numbers. Besides, no woman's gonna control me like that. Hell no. Well, now she's gone. Good fucking riddance." He drained the last of his _posh'ri_ then slammed the glass down.

The baby comment went right over Fasha's head. "Think about it, Dock. If she had you by the balls, then she controlled you, controlled the squad. Even if - when - she fucked up, you gave her a pass. That bitch was clever. But not _too_ clever. I figured it out. Saved your ass, Dock. You should be grateful. You owe me. And by the way, _I'd_ never do that to you."

Fasha gave him a meaningful glance. Bardock did not reply, he continued to mull over his dilemma. After waiting for a few minutes, Fasha grumbled in displeasure. She bared her teeth in a wide smile, leaned into Bardock's personal space and squeezed his thigh with one hand.

"So Dock, what the hell? You don't sleep with crew, huh? A nice lie. Is it that you didn't want me, or is it because her _jaja_ has connections?" She raised an eyebrow. Bardock could be quite dense sometimes.

Just then, Toma wandered back. Fasha glared at him, but the tall male did not take the hint. He placed the next round on the table, then filled his glass and settled back onto his stool.

"What took you so long," Bardock asked. Through his haze, he began to think that Fasha was hitting on him, and he was not sure how he felt about it.

"Saw some _ge'tahu_ from Makka's crew. Get this: they told me that Zarby already set them up for a week in advance. Oh, and there's some weird rumors about teams going out and never coming back. Three in a month. Command's got their tails in a twist about it. Some even think it's a conspiracy." Toma wagged one eyebrow, and tapped his temple to show what he thought about that.

"You never know," Bardock mused. "There's some strange shit out there still left over from the War." Then he reflected he was far too drunk to get philosophical, and trailed off.

"Fascinating," Fasha said, and leaned over towards Toma, cocked her head towards the crowd. "Why don't you go back and visit them some more?"

"The hell, Fasha. You trying to get rid of me?" Toma growled.

Fasha just coughed, then took a sip of her booze. "You interrupted Dock and I having a conversation."

"That true, Dock?" Toma's nostrils flared, and the muscles on his neck bunched up as he clenched his teeth.

Bardock opened his mouth to reply, only to have Fasha cut him off again.

"Dock was just trying to justify how fucking Gine was a good strategic move. Politics and all of that. Sleeping his way to the top. Right, Captain?" Fasha always knew how to say the worst thing at the worst possible time … because she thrived on conflict.

"Fuck off, Fasha. It's not like that at all." Bardock snarled, but without his usual fire. His words started to slur together, and he knew that if he got in a physical altercation that he was likely to lose. Maybe it was the booze talking, again, and maybe Gine walking away from _him_ really hit home. He wanted to stop the odd hollow feeling in his chest that cropped up whenever he thought about Gine. "I don't need her to make connections, and I don't need her for anything else."

"That's right, Dock. What's so damn good about her? What did she have that I didn't? If you'll fuck her ..." Fasha waved her tail, twined it around his thigh and rubbed, then gave him that smirk. Even Bardock, drunk as he was, could not miss the message.

"You wanna go, Fasha? Let's go."

She laughed. "Can you even get it up right now? You probably can't."

"I can get it up." Bardock boasted, offended by her suggestion that he was compromised.

Toma slapped his palms down on the table, a sudden move that drew their attention. His features were grim, his tail twitched and his body language indicated his conflict. Everyone knew he had an unrequited 'thing' for the feisty female and that she refused to even consider it, much to Toma's growing frustration. He and Bardock had gotten into a few fist fights over the subject already."I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Shut up, Toma!" Bardock and Fasha yelled simultaneously.

Toma stood up, a dark look on his tanned face as he glared at the both of them. His tail began to lash in an angry arc as he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. He took a step closer to Bardock so that he was within striking range.

"Something you wanna tell me?" Bardock's look was dagger sharp.

Without another word, Toma grabbed hold of Bardock's breastplate, yanked him forward and struck him in the face. Bardock felt his lip split. He howled in anger and lashed out. Soon, the two males were rolling on the floor, punching each other, Luckily, both were too drunk to do more than smack each other around and ruin the furniture.

Saiyans love a good fight, and soon a crowd gathered to watch the festivities, cheering one or both on. Fasha observed with a smile on her face, but did nothing to help or hinder.

"Damn it, Bardock - break it up," Chiv howled as he rushed over. The bartender jumped into the fray, and received a blackened eye and a split lip for his troubles, but finally managed to pry the two apart. "I just fixed this place! I swear to gods, Dock … I should ban you and your squad."

"Let me go," Bardock snarled as he tried to maneuver out of the headlock Chiv had placed him in. His reactions were dulled from the drink, and he could not seem to free himself. He grunted in frustration.

"Either you two settle down, or you're out of here. Don't test me," the burly man warned. If pushed too far, Chiv could fight with the best of them, After securing a promise from Bardock to 'behave himself', the bartender released his childhood friend, "Now go sit down and finish your _posh'ri._ "

Toma stood and wiped the blood from his face, panting from exertion and heat. No one had won, and Fasha did not seem impressed. He hissed in derision, conflicted. Perhaps Fasha wasn't worth the effort, after all, and he did not feel like getting banned from his favorite drinking spot.

"You're an asshole," he said, not sure whether he was addressing Bardock or Fasha, then turned on one heel and walked away to join his other friends.

"Okay then." Bardock folded his arms and watched Toma stalk off, he already was starting to forget what the fight was about. Then he turned his attention back to Fasha, who still had that pointed grin plastered on her face. What the hell had he been talking to her about? It was important … or at least he thought it was. Then he remembered: Fasha had challenged his status as a player, and that would not stand.

"Let's go, Fasha,"

"Your place or mine?" Fasha smirked, and rubbed up against him, her skin slick from sweat. "That's if you think you can handle me."

"Mine. Let's go." They departed without a word to Chiv or anyone else, and left Toma to pick up the tab.

Bardock lived nearby, a ten minute walk away. He was too drunk to fly straight, and so was Fasha. Together they stumbled back to his small private apartment, one of the perks of rank. He was so plastered that he miskeyed the combo several times before the door slid open.

Once inside, Fasha growled deep in her throat, grabbed him by the front of his breastplate, and pushed him up against a wall. Bardock snickered at her efforts as she began to kiss and bite his neck. Her fingers fumbled with the straps of his blue and green breastplate until she removed it and tossed it to the ground, already littered with debris, then began to work on his pants. Bardock grinned like the drunken idiot he was as he watched, but made no move to assist her.   
  
"This is just sex, Fasha," he warned. "I don't want any clingy crap from you afterwards, or any brats ... none of that shit." He slurred his words.  
  
"What makes you think I want anything else, Dock? Now just shut up!" Fasha growled. Her mouth returned to his neck, and she raked her fingernails down his chest.  
  
Bardock hissed when she scratched his flesh. He pushed her back, then stripped her down to her undersuit before allowing her to continue her assault. Once Fasha was completely nude, he wrapped the small female in his arms and kissed her forcefully. They began to make out as they stumbled towards his bed, tripping over various objects scattered about on the apartment floor. Dock never was a good housekeeper, and every time Gine had been over, she had spent hours picking up his mess. It never made much of a difference.  
  
Once in the bedroom, Fasha shoved Bardock down to the mattress, then straddled him. She brought her mouth to his chest and began to lick, suck and bite his pectorals; her saliva mingled with his blood. In response, he twined his fingers in her hair, then pulled her head up to deliver a deep and harsh kiss. With the other hand, he cupped one of her ample breasts, and massaged it before pinching the nipple to a hard peak, then flicked it.  
  
Fasha threw her head back and let out a gasp that caused Bardock to grin, his canines exposed. He continued to twist the sensitive bit and watched her squirm. Then he pulled her close and clamped his mouth down on her other tipple and swirled his tongue across the tip. The small female jerked in surprise. She whimpered and began to pant in desire as her body started to heat up from the pleasure. In return, she slid her hand between his legs and started to stroke his growing erection.   
  
She felt him respond to her touch, but he did not let up on her breasts. When he did, it was to wrap his arms around her waist and shift so that she lay on the bottom. Once Bardock had her trapped beneath his weight, he grinned wickedly, then began to plant rough kisses on her stomach until she moaned in desire.  
  
Unable to contain herself, Fasha wrapped her fingers in Bardock's wild hair - much as he had earlier - and began to guide his mouth towards her waiting sex. Once he felt her pushing, he refused her request, and pulled away with that stupid smirk on his face. This both annoyed and aroused Fasha.   
  
"Stop teasing me, Dock," she warned, then punched him in the chest and returned his smug expression. "Or are you lost?"  
  
Before she could continue her verbal barrage, he grabbed her thighs and pushed them apart, then spread her folds with his tongue. Fasha gasped, arched her back, and returned her hand to his hair. Her face flushed as Bardock plied her clitoris to a solid nub. The pleasure was so intense that she screamed; it did not take long for her to climax several times. Once satiated, she pushed him off and away to recover. She lay still, covered in sweat and whimpering from the intense orgasm, unable to move yet.  
  
He allowed her a moment to recover, then he pulled her close and once again parted her legs to gain entry to her depths. She gasped from the sudden contact, but did not refuse him. Bardock leaned over and kissed her again; wrapped her in an embrace so tight that she winced. His mouth ravaged hers as he pushed forward into her core. Fasha froze from the intrusion, but only because the pleasure sent shock waves through her frame. She had been wanting him for so long that it was almost painful.  
  
Once inside of her, Bardock started to pant even before he began to rock back and forth. As he began to pick up speed, he kept his eyes on her face; he wished to capture her expression in his memory. Fasha's face twisted in pure bliss from even the slightest of movements. But after a few more agonizingly slow thrusts, Fasha could not help herself. She began to claw his back and beg him for more.  
  
"Please, Dock … I can't take it anymore, fuck me harder!" Her voice dripped with lust.  
  
Bardock responded by pinning down her arms and giving her what she wanted most. As he picked up speed, he began to thrust into her again and again, a sensuous rhythm that numbed his thoughts and set his body on fire. They frantically and mindlessly coupled, surrounded and enveloped in each other, until they collapsed, exhausted, and fell into a deep slumber still wrapped in each others' arms.

 

* * *

Bardock awoke the next day because his scouter kept shrieking. His mouth tasted like an ashtray, his head pounded, and every part of him hurt. He moaned in agony. Who made that _tapa_ sun so bright? He rolled over to silence the scouter's shrill howl, and rolled into his partner. At first in his blighted stupor, he thought it was Gine ... then he remembered that he was pissed at her.

Had he finally fired her? He hoped to gods that he had not just canned Gine, then went home with her and fucked, but it was likely.

The curved female next to him had wide hips, a short tail, and light cream colored skin. Her thick black hair was cut into a shaggy bob: longer in the front and almost sheared in the back. Her sides rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep. He could see the fresh bite marks covering her neck and shoulders from the previous night.

_Oh shit … Fasha. I don't remember bringing her home. At least it's not Gine, but this is going to complicate the hell out of things._

Still the scouter howled for his attention. Bardock rolled out of bed, grabbed the damn thing, stuck it over his ear and yelled. "What the hell? This better be good."

"Morning, Dock." Toma spoke in clipped tones. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he'd been yelling. "You planning on showing up? Skallon's threatening to tail tip you if you're any later."

"Why? What the hell time is it," he muttered, then fumbled around the room to look for his chronometer. At last, he found it on the floor, among the clutter. Bardock looked at it through squinted eyes and groaned. He was late. Very late. And that was bad; he was running behind for his own team assessment. "Son of a bitch," he hollered. "We'll be there ASAP. Distract 'em, Toma. Good man!"

He turned back to the bed where Fasha had turned on her back and snored with her mouth open. The blanket had fallen and one well rounded breast hung out, creamy white with a rosy nipple. Bardock resisted the urge to tweak it with his fingers when he went over and kicked the bed to shake his second in command awake.

"Fasha!"

"Wha ..." She waved one hand at him, tried to push him away. "Shh. Not so loud, Dock."

"Get up. We're late for the fucking meeting," he yelled as he scrambled around the tiny apartment and looked for his clothing, strewn all over from the night before. He found his pants in the small kitchen sink, his breastplate near the door, his boots on opposite ends. _The hell? What did we do last night?"_

He went into the minuscule bathroom and stared at his reflection. He looked like crap. He ran his hands through his wild hair, and stared at the scratches that covered his chest and stomach. Well, the armor would cover that. He ran a cleaner over his teeth, tines through his hair and smelled himself. "Damn. No time for a shower. You up yet?"

Fasha stumbled around, collected her items, stared at Bardock through swollen eyes. Now on the other side of their drinking binge, neither wanted to discuss last night, and luckily time was short. As Fasha pulled on her boots, Bardock pulled on his dented armor. He headed for the door and almost shoved Fasha out in front of him.

"Trying to get rid of me already," she snarled. Her armor did not disguise the marks on her light flesh.

"Let's just not, Fasha … We're on our way." Bardock spoke into the scouter mike, then took to the air, followed by Fasha.

They sped over Sector 5 barracks towards the Command Center to the North. As he flew, Bardock looked down upon his home. He had grown up here, forced to make his own way at a young age. He had never known his father , and he had few memories of his mother. Mostly what he remembered was that the woman could not be bothered by him; had dumped him off on the steps of one of the orphanages, then walked away and never came back. Bardock had to fight for everything he had, and it made him strong and aggressive. One of his few hobbies was tinkering: he loved puzzles and mechanics, and often took things apart just to see how they worked. His scouter was a common target.

When he was 12, he joined the Saiyan army to find a better life, and he met Toma. They went through basic training together. At the least, there was more food and structure, and Bardock could put his anger to good use. When war between the Saiyans and Tuffles broke out four years later, Bardock volunteered to go to the front lines, where he earned notice from Command early on for his keen observational and reasoning skills. His talents became useful when the Tuffles wielded their terrifying weapons and the Saiyans needed to figure out ways to combat them.

Bardock lost track of the times he saw comrades die from unknown weapons and technology, and the constant exposure to death made him numb to most things. Saiyan losses were devastating, especially early on before they learned and adapted to Tuffle attacks. During that time, he met his future teammates Fasha and Topato, Panbukin came latest. It was during the War that the five of them started to forge their _ji'ta ch_. It gave Bardock a sense of purpose and belonging that he had never experienced before, and his natural leadership and strategic abilities gained them attention, even earned them a position on the strike teams. Bardock rose through the ranks, from Private to Lieutenant to Captain, and he was given his own team, to whom he devoted himself.

When the War ended ten years later, Bardock stayed in the army. He knew no other life, and really ... what else was there? The War had cost tens of thousands of Saiyans their lives, devastated their cites and infrastructure, and driven them to the brink of extinction. But they had survived. _Bardock_ had survived. And the Saiyan people began to rebuild using the tools of their former enemies.

Now two years later, Bardock and crew worked for another master. The Planetary Trade Organization, under Lord Frieza's rule, had swept in and snatched up the pieces. They had offered the Saiyans money, status, and a sense of purpose. The opportunities in the PTO for advancement were unparalleled, and most survivors had jumped at the chance. But now that they had accepted, Lord Frieza had done an about face, placed massive military forces on their world, and annexed them when everyone was not paying attention.

Bardock did what he always did, no matter who was in charge: he worked and fought hard. The faces of authority changed, but Bardock had stopped paying attention to their names. As long as they paid him and stayed out of his way ... it was all good. He tried to ignore the rumors that they were nothing more than slaves, pawns of the Cold Empire. As long as he could fight, he was happy.

Command resided in an old fortress left over from before the War: a building carved out of a mountain, one of many scattered in the wastelands where the Saiyans had lived since migrating to Planet Plant, now renamed Vegetasai, in honor of their victory. Attack Pods constantly dotted the blood red sky; coming and going, the lifeblood of the PTO, doing Frieza's dirty work. Vehicles moved resources and troops day and night.

When Bardock landed in the courtyard, he saw General Nappa, once Grand Master of War, training the newest class of youths in the scathing heat. The giant man nodded at him and rumbled a greeting.

"Skallon's looking for you, Bardock. I'd get your ass in there now. His tail's on fire he's so pissed." Nappa's eyes scanned the adolescents as they did their calisthenics. "You, Kori, cut the chatter or you're on mess duty," he snapped, and the young female immediately quieted.

Bardock laughed. He remembered his training years ago under General Gren, a ball-busting female who had taken no shit from anyone. He wondered where she was now ... then decided perhaps he did not want to know.

When they entered the complex, the temperature dropped. Inside of the stone walls, it was always cooler, and Bardock breathed a sigh of relief. When outside during the hot season, it felt like he was swimming through water. Bardock found it hard to breathe and it made the normally volatile Saiyan even more bad tempered. He walked straight to the General's office and ignored the smirks from his fellow soldiers, the murmurs behind his back. _What's all this about; does the entire base know something I don't?_ He shrugged. Nothing could be done about it. Fasha fell in step with him, and exchanged a glance with him.

"I don't like it," the short haired female said. "I hope we're not being reassigned."

"Yeah, me too." Bardock suspected it had everything to do with Gine.

As he entered the cool office, he saw Panbukin, Toma, and Topato waiting for him, standing at attention. Toma glared at him, but said nothing.

He strode up to Skallon's desk, placed his right hand against his heart and gave a perfunctory bow, then stood. "Captain First class Bardock reporting for duty, sir."

"Glad to see you find the time to join us, Captain." Skallon did not rise, nor did he return the salute.

General Skallon was a stocky barrel chested man who had lost both an eye and several fingers during the War. He was well into his seventies and was just hitting his prime. Not only had he survived the Tuffle War but he had thrived. Skallon had political connections that went all the way to the throne, and into the PTO hierarchy as well. He was a war hero, a brilliant strategist, and absolutely ruthless. In short, he was the wrong man to piss off. One word from the General, and Bardock would spend the rest of his military days scrubbing latrines, in spite of Bardock's stellar record.

"At ease, Captain." Skallon glanced down at his tablet, then motioned to Bardock.

_Well, at least that's a good sign_. He relaxed his stiff posture, stood with his feet apart and his hands behind his back and took in a steadying breath through his nostrils. He resisted the urge to look at Fasha or the rest of his _ji'ta ch_ for clues.

Skallon cleared his throat, then fixed Bardock with his piercing stare. That look often intimidated the younger soldiers and got them talking. "Let's bypass the pleasantries and just get to it, Captain. Command is impressed with your latest mission on Sorbal. You've also managed to gain a lot of attention these past two years."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't interrupt me, soldier," Skallon growled and scratched at his beard. "You set a new record, or so General Zarbon tells me. Your team's performance has been exemplary, for the most part. Most of the reports that cross my desk talk about team cohesiveness. Your _ji'ta ch_ tells me you are the best command officer they have ever worked with."

_Here it comes._ Bardock steeled himself for the upcoming reprimand.

"Other officers also claim that you are a talented officer who can motivate his men. I have to wonder about this claim, Captain. I really do. I have to wonder, if you and your team have such an excellent reputation, why did you see fit to remove a soldier whom I placed with you personally? I asked you to work with her, improve her performance, and you have failed."

Bardock bristled at the accusation that he had purposely defied Skallon, even though it was true that he wanted to remove her from the team. It was because Gine was a hindrance. He knew it, Skallon knew it, hell the entire galaxy knew it ... it had _nothing_ to do with his leadership abilities.

Skallon stood, his arms folded, his hair a wild twist of strands that he had beaten into submission, perhaps through force of will. "I don't like the thought that you're undermining my authority. Private Gine tells me that it was her choice to resign, that you did not pressure her into it. Now, I don't know why she feels the need to cover for you, but it stops here."

"She's not covering for me, General, she chose to leave the team." Bardock snapped and stepped up so that he and Skallon were face to face. Backing down from the powerful General would not earn Bardock any respect, only get him labelled as a coward. Like most Saiyans, Skallon respected strength. "And I earned the right to lead my _ji'ta ch_. Are you going to demote me because I couldn't make Private Gine fight?"

"I would like to, Captain, but your team sings your praises, and so do some of my peers. I'm not taking your rank, but I _am_ going to put your team performance under assessment until I am sure you deserve your command. If you cannot bring one private up to par, then I am not sure you deserve your command. I have reason to believe that you are not willing to handle all of your responsibilities and duties. And until I have seen that you are capable of that, I am putting Lieutenant Fasha in temporary command until further notice."

Fasha's jaw dropped, and the team broke out in a riot of commotion and protests. If he had not seen her reaction, Bardock would have sworn she was in on it.

"What! You can't do that," he protested.

"I can do what I want, Captain. Just like you seem to think. Lieutenant Fasha, report to Major Daekon for your next assignment. Captain, you will remain here for a moment. Dismissed."

Fasha's expression went blank as she saluted, then turned on one heel and walked away, her tail wrapped around her waist. The rest of the squad followed, and no one looked over their shoulder. The door shut with an audible click.

Once they were alone, Skallon and Bardock stared at each other, two alpha males trying to psych the other out.

"This is about Gine, isn't it?" Bardock gave in first, and kicked himself for it. "You're stripping me of command because I couldn't rehabilitate her. She can't fight, General; she was compromising the safety of my soldiers. You know it, and she knew it. The next battle we went into might have been our last, and I'm not going to throw my team's lives away."

"You _idiot_." Skallon spoke softly, so that Bardock had to lean in closer. "You haven't been trying to 'rehabilitate' her. You've been fucking with her, Bardock, literally. And now you're dodging your duties."

Once again, Bardock was struck speechless. He had heard that Skallon was cold, did not care for his blood outside of political connections, but even he thought this was beyond manipulative.

When Bardock started, Skallon sneered and bared all of his yellowed teeth in a fierce display. "You think that I don't know? She's pregnant, again, and I'll be damned if I pay for another useless _br'at_ because she can't pick a mate who sticks around."

And there it was. General Skallon did not care a whit for his offspring. He only cared about his image and his career.

"So Captain … are you going to take responsibility for what's yours, or do I have to beat you to within an inch of your life? Not to mention I will strip you of rank and make sure that you will never get another assignment for the rest of your life. I don't care if you never speak to her again, just that you step up and fix the mess you caused." Skallon paused, leaned back in his chair, and waited for Bardock to respond.

Bardock, who usually knew just what to say, was at a loss. He just spluttered, then realized he sounded like an idiot and shut his mouth before he said something idiotic that would get him into further trouble.

When Skallon realized that Bardock was not going to answer, he continued on. "I'm a reasonable man. I'll give you time to think it over, say a day or two. When your _ji'ta ch_ is done on assignment, I'll expect your answer then. Dismissed."

Face burning bright red, Bardock stomped out of the office. He was humiliated, stripped down to second, his free will taken away. He was beyond pissed … Skallon had no right to make that choice for him.

Usually, males were not required to own up to their progeny, and females did not expect them to. The population was so small that all females were expected to bear children, and there were far more men than women. Females were in charge of raising their _br'atu_ as they saw fit, received recognition for it, but also bore the burden of cost. If a male chose to claim paternity, he earned the right of recognition and input into the child's upbringing, but it also meant that he could be financially liable. Males who had large families were often rewarded by the Throne with position, prestige, property in an effort to boost numbers. So, fatherhood had its benefits ... and downfalls. Most _men_ did not want to take the time, even though infants were raised in natal pods for the first one to two years of their lives.

So Bardock did not have to be personally involved for a few years, but he had never wanted to be a parent. He was afraid that it would ruin his career and subconsciously afraid that he would screw the job up, like his own parents had done with him. Also, Gine was not his first choice for a partner. She was soft, weak, and lacking in warrior spirit. In fact, she was the last female he would have chosen to reproduce with. And it shouldn't have happened in the first place. _Damn_. Bardock would have to speak with her soon.

Fasha caught up to him. Her face was pale, but with small red blotches on her cheeks. She looked unhappy, not at all like someone who had been given her own command. "Bardock, I swear I had nothing to do with it. You've got to believe me."

Bardock held up one hand to forestall the protest. "Not now, Fasha. Not here."

He fled the building with his head down and his gaze averted; his tail cut an angry swath behind him and his Ki a white aura. He could barely contain his fury. All he wanted to do was kill something, and right now if Fasha pushed it, he might take out his anger on her. She knew enough to stay out of his way, just followed behind along with the rest of the _ji'ta ch_ … _his_ ji'ta ch … in silence.

 


	5. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credit where Credit is due:
> 
> Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.
> 
> Phrases and words used in this chapter:
> 
> Br'at - child
> 
> Eh - a greeting
> 
> Ge'ta - warrior/soldier
> 
> Ja'ta - father
> 
> Ji'ta ch - 'fighting family', team

Against orders, Fasha and the others had waited for him. Fasha held her tail down, the tip in a loop and her shoulders drooped, yet she met his eyes without hesitation. "Don't worry, Dock. We'll stop by Assignment and get this sorted out. Even if I'm squad leader right now, you're still our Captain. Skallon can't change that."

Instead of feeling reassured, he growled at Fasha to leave off. He did not want to cause a scene; he was seconds away from losing control. Skallon would just _love_ that, another excuse to knock him down a few pegs. Perhaps that was what the demotion was truly about: General Skallon felt threatened by Bardock's rapid ascent through the ranks and needed to find a way to slow him down.

Well, it wouldn't work.

How dare Skallon interfere with his life in this manner and force him to acknowledge a child against his will? Skallon was probably trying to pawn off Gine, unload her so she became someone else's problem. And for that matter, what had happened to Gine's previous partner; was Skallon trying to foist a previous _br'at_ off on Bardock as well?

Although he wanted to get into it with Skallon, Bardock stopped by the training rooms instead. He needed to get his anger out before he did something idiotic and ended up court marshaled ... or dead. He had no doubts that Skallon would kill him without a thought if he started a fight, and Bardock was quite fond of living.

So he bypassed some of the room's parameters and programmed Skallon's face on each of the battle drones. An hour later, he emerged exhausted and covered in sweat and sharp wounds. It was satisfying to tear his metallic enemies apart with his bare hands and imagine that it was the General each time.

Sufficiently calmed, he swung by Assignments to have a word or two with Major Daekon and find out where to join his team ... no, _Fasha_ 's team. He gritted his teeth at the thought.

Daekon, an older man with short cropped hair, a wicked scar that cut across his face and curled his lips into a permanent sneer, and old style black armor looked up as Bardock blew in. There was no secretary; Daekon saw no need for more bureaucracy. The Major settled back in his seat, folded his hands and smirked.

" _Eh_ , Captain Bardock," he greeted. "I can guess why you're here."

Bardock did not bother with the niceties. "Which prep room are they in? I can catch up with them if I need to."

"It doesn't matter where they are, because you're not joining them. They've already shipped out and won't be back for two days. Skallon expressed them out."

"You've got to be fucking kidding. It's only been an hour!" Bardock's tail came undone from his waist and frizzed out. His earlier calm started to fade away.

"That blows, Captain _,_ but you're grounded. Skallon's orders. So ... speaking of Skallon ... what did you do to piss him off, fuck his woman or something?" Daekon grinned. He always liked to poke fun at Bardock's extracurricular activities, perhaps because _he_ could not get laid...

The look Bardock cast his superior officer was murderous. His hair stood up on end, and it took all of his will not to power up and leave a smoking crater where Daekon sat. "Fuck you, Daekon. I should kick your entitled ass."

"Bring it. I could really use a warm up." Daekon cracked his knuckles, and made a 'come on' motion with his tail. "I'm not your enemy, Captain. Don't forget that."

 _Arrogant prick_ , Bardock thought. Daekon was descended from a long line of Elites, and like most aristocrats, thought he was untouchable. Sadly, Bardock on his best day could not touch his superior, and the man knew it. This fact pissed Bardock off even more: due to his birthrank he would probably never be this man's equal in power, or earn his respect.

"That asshole said he wasn't demoting me," Bardock snarled, then realized it sounded like he was whining. Which he was.

Daekon shrugged, a simple and disinterested motion. "Don't know what to tell you, Bardock. Go home. Count it as free leave."

 _Leave_. Sure, that was the word for it. More like stripped of his authority and humiliated in front of his team. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the Base knew, and then he would never hear the end of it. "Thanks for nothing."

"Don't mention it. See yourself out." Daekon turned in his chair, an obvious dismissal.

Next time, Bardock would take a swing at the arrogant asshole, damn the consequences. He pinged the group frequency again. Perhaps he could still catch up, in spite of Skallon's meddling.

"Dock, finally! We've been trying to raise you for the last hour." Fasha's voice was higher than usual, a vibration to it that meant she was anxious. "Where did you get off to?"

"Had to blow off steam before I talked to Daekon. It didn't work well."

"So ... you've heard we're shipping out, then. We're in the launch tubes right now. I'm glad I got hold of you. I didn't want you to think we fucked off into space without you."

Bardock did not reply at first. He was livid, and felt left out. The thought that Fasha was most likely still hung over made him feel a little better about temporarily losing his command.

"What the hell, Fasha. Couldn't you wait to take control?"

"I had no idea! I told you that already ... and thanks for the vote of confidence. I wouldn't stab you in the back like that." Fasha sounded hurt, and Bardock felt a little bad for accusing her of usurping his authority. Then Fasha opened her mouth again and ruined it. "This is because of Gine, isn't it? I knew that bitch was nothing but trouble. Look, we're - "

The frequency cut out suddenly. Bardock thought Fasha did it on purpose at first, then he heard and felt the rumble of rockets. He watched as four Attack Pods blasted into the atmosphere, and out into space. His team ... going without him.

With nothing else constructive to do, Bardock took to the air and flew back to his residence. He considered stopping by Chiv's, but he did not trust himself. It would only take one wrong word or look from someone and he would go off; he could not afford to be banned from his favorite drinking hole. That, and Chiv had cut him off. Although he had grown up with the barkeep; they were not really allies, and Chiv was not known for charity.

His small apartment was sweltering hot and cluttered, and smelled like smoke. Bardock grunted his annoyance, turned on the air to cool the place, and brooded. He lit a blunt and cracked open a cold one. Three ales and one joint later, he felt less like he had just been ass raped without lube.

Bardock turned on the vidscreen as he walked in. There was only one channel available for official news and alerts, but Bardock was not interested in current events. He just wanted background noise. He grabbed a few more beers and blunts, and retreated to his Tinker Table. It overflowed with half assembled Tuffle tech, wires and circuits, a half assembled scouter running diagnostics and others that were in pieces, tiny globes smuggled from the fallen Tuffle ruins, anything he could get his hands on. When Gine first came by, she had tried to organize his work space, and he had yelled at her for it, confusing her and humiliating himself in the process. It was a mess, but it was _his_ mess.

Bardock had tinkered since childhood; it was his hobby and a way to maintain his sanity. He had fixed small things for credit or favors, and it was how he stayed out of trouble ... sometimes. Bardock had a fiery temper and low inhibitions; he had trouble resisting a brawl if someone brought it to him, even when young. But as time went by, Bardock learned to control his impulses. He expanded his side career, and developed an actual passion for engineering and inventing. It went totally against his image as a badass _ge'ta_ , so only a select few people knew about it, Gine being one of them. Toma also knew, and would kid Bardock over it; he was the only one who could get away with it.

Most Saiyans were focused on battle above all else. Bardock loved a good fight as much as the next Saiyan, but he sometimes longed for more, and tinkering solved that need. It was all about the puzzles, and that was what made him a great strategist on the field: the ability to see how the pieces fit together.

He hoped to figure out how to harness Ki, or other energies, into smaller machines, perhaps something like the newer scouter tech. To do so might guarantee him a promotion into the higher echelons - after all, the King himself was a man of unusual intellect who knew that knowledge was _also_ power. If he could attract the attention of the King, then he would not have to deal with Skallon's bullshit.

The screen continued to blare, but Bardock ceased to pay attention. Once he got into puttering mode, everything else faded into the background. He put on his magnifying lenses; they made his eyes look gigantic ... oh how Gine had laughed at that ... picked up his miniature tools, and selected one of the gutted scouters he had been futzing around with last week. As he worked, he allowed his mind to wander in free fall. He did not realize it, but his thoughts kept returning to Gine, working the pieces of the puzzle, waiting for them to fall into place ... if they ever did.

The day went by in a drunken and high blur, his mind and senses numbed out. Gine wandered through like a phantom always on the edge of his vision, haunting him no matter how many beers he drank or blunts he smoked. He knew that, sooner than later, he would need to talk with her. Just not now.

He stumbled towards the tiny kitchen to fetch more beers, of course, and almost fell on his face. Without Gine to pick up after him, the mess had accumulated into little mountains of takeout containers, dirty laundry, discarded pieces of junk from failed projects. She would be so upset at how the place looked ... then he remembered that Gine would not be coming by to clean any more. _Tapa. I need to go and talk to her._ Not now, not in his condition. He stumbled towards his cot to sleep it off.

The next morning found Bardock face down on the floor. He never made it into his bed.

 _This is familiar_ , he mused. He had fallen asleep in his armor, and had a nasty crick in his back. His mouth was dry, and he wished that he had not drank all of his alcohol the night previous ... not that he actually remembered drinking most of it. The tall male scratched at his stubble, opened the cold store, and stared into it with bleary eyes. Empty, except for one lone beer, a dead rat that he had killed earlier in the week (why waste good meat), a few bottles of hot sauce and takeout of questionable age, certainly not enough food to sustain an adult Saiyan. Damn. Not only was Bardock a bad housekeeper, but he was a terrible cook.

 _Well, I could go by the mess hall. The food is boring, but hell ... at least I don't have to make it. But, then I have to look presentable. Shower. Shave. Clean clothes. It's fucking hot out there, too._ He scratched at his scalp as he considered his limited options. In the end, he decided it was far too much effort and opted to eat the takeout. Luckily, Saiyan stomachs can digest almost anything. At least when Gine was around, she cooked. Right now, he would give a limb at this point for a home made meal.

_Stop it, Dock. Stop thinking about her._

As he ate his unsatisfying repast, Bardock smoked his morning nicstick and turned on the screen to get caught up. He checked his tablet only to discover that he was still grounded, and without purpose. A bored Saiyan was a force of nature, and often it lead to destructive actions. Not that he had much choice. Skallon had done it to him on purpose, to break him. In defiance, he turned on the air, sat around in his skivvies and popped the lid off the last bottle with the flick of one finger.

 _I can't take more than a day of sitting on my ass_ , he reflected. _I'm going to lose my mind. And my team is out there, without me, kicking ass and having fun._

He half listened to the news and to the weather - fucking hot with continued fucking hot - and the PTO official gibberish, talking heads that he could not care less about. He zoned out for a while, then came to when he saw the Royal Crest flash across the screen. He paid attention then, hoping for something interesting, but was disappointed by the official announcement: the Crown Prince of Vegetasai, Fifty-Fifth of His Name, had been born at last and widespread celebrations were in the planning. Bardock wondered if he could attend; he'd heard the royals threw a great party.

Great. Another over-privileged, overpowered little _br'at_ who was sure to think that the Galaxy owed him something. You'd think that no one had ever popped out a kid before in the history of the universe, the way they carried on.

Bardock scoffed. Then, of course, he thought about his _br'at_. And then, about Gine ... because all things led back to the small female eventually.

Gine, the daughter of privilege as well. How dare she pull in her _ja'ta_ to fix her issues, when she promised that she would not? It was a dishonorable move; but the more Bardock thought about it, it also did not seem like something Gine would do. She was too soft, too _caring_ , too weak, to play nasty politics like that and not once had she mentioned her family connections for personal gain. But it did not matter in the end, because Skallon had gotten himself all up in Bardock's business. He would need to do something about Gine and soon, or the vindictive General would continue to make his life hell, and Bardock would lose everything he had worked so hard to achieve.

_Maybe I can just send some of my monthly wages to Gine for the br'at. Make sure my name is attached when he's born and stuck in the Pod. It will only be for twelve years, until the kid is old enough to join the Army. Obligation met, end of story. Yet, why do I feel so hollow when I think about it, about her?_

The answer was, of course, not to think about it.

Most low level warriors were born from temporary partnerships that rarely lasted beyond the carnal act that created them, although some pairs would form a temporary alliance to raise a child. Once born, infants were taken to the Natal Pods where they developed for two to three years. When released, they were able to walk and talk, to take care of themselves, programmed with the basics. Little blank slates. Afterwards, the mother could raise the child as she saw fit, but often they were just dropped off at one of the numerous orphanages sponsored by the Army ... much like Bardock's mother had done. He had never met his sire, did not know the man's name, nor did he know if he had any siblings. And, like most Saiyans, Bardock did not care ... or pretended that he did not care. His _ji'ta ch_ was all the family he needed or wanted.

But the noble bloodlines, notably the Royal Family, were different. Some formed more permanent bonds, having more than one child with the same partner and remaining together once the children were gone. The King and Queen were actually married (although it was a political alliance, like all marriages), and it was rumored that their children were not even raised in Natal Pods. That did not make sense to Bardock - a child not pod raised would be at a disadvantage: behind in both physical and mental development, always playing catch up.

He wasted a few more hours before the boredom finally got to him. Action was needed. It was time to stop fucking off, to man up and go talk to her.

Bardock wandered into the bathroom to shave and clean up. He'd be damned if he showed up on Gine's doorstep looking like something one of the desert beasts dragged in. Lounging around the house was one thing, but he had an image to keep up. The ladies appreciated a well groomed male. As he shaved, he looked at the bites and bruises left by Fasha the night before, and sighed.

He dressed, dreading the heat, and thought about what he would say to Gine ... then he realized that, in spite of the fact that she had been on his squad for a year and he'd bedded her numerous times, that he did not know where she lived. _How embarrassing. Well, I guess I am going to the Base after all._ Bardock opened the door, and the heat blasted in as if he had walked into an oven.

 _Sometimes I hate this planet_ , he thought, and walked out the door.


	6. Active Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credit where Credit is due:
> 
> Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me kind permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.
> 
> Phrases and words used in this chapter:
> 
> eh - a greeting
> 
> ge'tah - ally/ friend - often used as a casual way to address another Saiyan (ge'tahu -allies)
> 
> jik'hi - asshole
> 
> ji'tach - fighting team
> 
> nava - tail (navau - tails)
> 
> tapa - general swear word
> 
> ve'osa ve'ho - crown prince  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> A/N: Sorry about the wait. I continue to do battle with my Writer's Block. I will win. Enjoy!  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bardock took his time flying to Command Base. After all, what was the hurry? He was grounded for another day at least, and he did not relish the upcoming confrontation with Gine. If past experience was any indicator, it would result in her weeping and Bardock making a fool of himself as he tried to calm her. And he hated himself for caving in each time. He could conquer planets, massacre entire populations without remorse, but he could not withstand the tears of one woman. So much for being a ruthless warrior.

He disliked having to go to Gine, to be on her turf, but he could not contact her via scouter any more. Once her resignation from Bardock's team had finalized, she was removed from their group frequency. Last he knew, Gine still lived in her father's house, along with her son. He _could_ go and ask Skallon for her address, but he did not wish to give that _jik'hi_ the satisfaction of begging, or (even more humiliating) having to admit to the General that he did not know how to contact a former team member.

Sure, he knew where the rest of his _ji'tach_ lived. Granted, they all lived in Sector Five, where most of the low class Saiyan rank and file dwelled, but that wasn't the point. Captain Bardock had dropped the ball with Gine ... and it showed.

Instead of asking Skallon and risking further scorn, he would drop by Personnel instead. Maybe he could sweet talk the female officer into giving him Gine's details without it getting out to everyone and their brother. The woman had a thing for him, and a little bit of 'personal attention' could go a long way. A quick trip to an empty back room for a little lovin' ... and the information was his.

As he considered his options, his scouter crackled to life. His _ji'tach_ was outbound, deep in cold sleep, and he had checked his tablet before leaving his tiny apartment. Only a few high ranking individuals - such as Major Daekon or General Nappa - could jump onto a private crew line. So, Bardock was surprised when it went off.

Bardock pressed the comm button and spoke. "Bardock here. Go ahead."

Nothing but static, and a loud high pitched squeal that made him wince. " _Tapa!_ What else can go wrong?"

His scouter had been damaged during his last mission. Bardock had fixed it himself instead of requesting a new one, usually a simple task for the tech savvy Saiyan. It seemed to be working fine up until now, of course. He would take a look at it later, after he dealt with Gine. At least it would give him something to do.

But … maybe he should swing by the Assignment Office, just in case something had come up.

He could see the round Attack Pods coming and going as he approached, and it only served as a further reminder about his demotion and humiliation. By now, everyone on the base … and probably all of Vegetasai … would know that Bardock, the rising star, was grounded. He would never hear the end of it.

The mountain fortress was surrounded by tall, metallic spires and wide domes constructed after Frieza decided to make Vegetasai into a military outpost, without asking first. They housed personnel from the Galactic Frieza Army, a constant reminder to the Saiyans not to get too uppity - never to forget their place. Although the Saiyan Army was allowed some level of independent control and choice, they were still under the black shadow of the Planetary Trade Organization; any semblance of true freedom was just an illusion in the end.

_Someday, we'll grow strong enough to overthrow them, to take our home back, to crush them into dust. It's only a matter of time._

Bardock touched down in the courtyard, lit his last nicstick, and headed straight for the Assignment Office. He was lost in his own thoughts, but it did not take long for him to notice the unusual commotion. On most days, the quad was filled with recruits doing training exercises, strike teams coming and going, and onsite personnel moving about at a leisurely pace. Bardock liked to stop and get caught up, but today people rushed about frantically and no one spoke to him. He had not seen this much activity since the Annexation Event a few years ago when Frieza had shown up with an army and left without one.

_What the hell was going on now?_

After three drags, Bardock flicked the nub of his nicstick off to one side as he passed through the closed doors and into the cool stone interior. Inside, the frantic pace continued. He passed by several other team leaders, most of whom gave him knowing glances and snickers. Saiyans were notorious gossips, and Bardock was sure that word of his demotion had spread.

A stocky warrior with long wiry hair pulled into a braid, green and gold armor, and a blue scouter stopped to talk with Bardock. They had served together in the War and had been allies of sorts, before they had gotten into an argument over a female. He approached, and glanced at Bardock's backside quickly before nodding a greeting.

"The hell, Fennel? You hitting on me," Bardock growled, and faced his former comrade. "You know you're not my type. Not enough cleavage."

"Don't flatter yourself, Barcock." Fennel chuckled, then tilted his head to one side as he spoke. "Rumor mill says that Skallon had you tail tipped. Betting pool says it's over a female. I'm just checking to see if it's true. Nothing personal, _ge'tah_."

"Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear. Hate to disappoint you, but I'm still in one piece." Bardock wagged his tail in a lazy arc for all to see before wrapping it around his waist again. "And speaking of tails, what's got everyone's _navau_ in knots around here?"

"No idea. I'm shipping out on long term purge assignment." With a shrug, Fennel bared his yellowed teeth in a crooked grin. "Too bad you're grounded, right? See you around, Dock."

"Nosy bastard," Bardock muttered. He glared at Fennel's back, but chose not to pursue the other man. He would not feed the gossip. It was so not worth the effort, and also not worth getting written up again. However, if he ran into Fennel on down time ... well, that would be another story.

Feeling even more irritated, Bardock strode into Daekon's domain. The bulky Major had a frown on his scarred face and looked quite harried.

"It's about damn time, Captain. You don't answer your comm anymore? I thought I was going to have to send out someone to hunt you down."

"I was on mandatory leave, remember?" With a sigh, Bardock tapped the earpiece of his scouter. "I wasn't ignoring you, Major. My scouter's on the fritz. But I'm here now. What's so important you're pulling me in?"

"You're back on active duty, Captain. Congratulations."

"Huh." Bardock scratched at his scalp, then placed both hands behind his head. "Did Skallon suffer a fatal stroke?"

The Major did not reply at first. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and grumbled. "Sometimes, you really try my patience. You know that?"

Bardock grinned, he could not help himself. "Yeah, I hear that a lot. So … what do you need me for, boss? Purge job? Backup support? Ass bailing? I can ship out right now."

"You won't be fighting, Bardock. This an on-world assignment."

"What the hell," Bardock shouted, interrupting his superior. "I'm one of your best, and you know it - even if Skallon's trying to screw me over. I'm not going to put up with this -"

Daekon rose from his seat, his face dark, and cut Bardock off. "If you have a problem following orders, _Captain_ , I can always put you on cleanup detail … or food prep … or kitchen duty. I'm not in the mood to argue with you."

"Well, I guess it's better than sitting around on my ass," Bardock muttered. He knew just how far he could push the older man. He patted the chest plate of his armor, then remembered he had smoked his last nicstick on the way over.

"I thought you'd see it that way. Now, report to General Nappa at the Palace Complex immediately to get suited up and briefed. And make sure to tell him that you need a new scouter."

For a few seconds, Bardock did not respond. He was not sure he had heard correctly. "Uh … hold on ... you're putting me on guard duty? As in, standing around all day doing nothing? I think I'd rather take the mess hall rotation."

Most of the time, the Royal Guard spent their days on base, smoking and playing cards while waiting their turn on rotation. Only ten to fifteen men were on active duty at the Palace proper at any given time. It was a cushy job that paid well and was usually reserved for those in favor, which Bardock was not at the moment.

"Shut up and listen for once, Captain," Daekon roared. The muscles on his neck tightened like chords as he stood up, bristling with irritation. He slammed one fist down on the desk, and the floor shook from the force. "This order came from High Command less than an hour ago, and is priority one. Since you have such a stellar record with the higher ups, both my authority and Skallon's have been overridden. Most of our teams are out on assignment right now; the King himself has called for a full detail. This is a great honor, Bardock, so don't fuck it up. And you can bet your tail that Skallon was bitching when this came down the line."

"I'll bet. What's this about?" The thought of rubbing Skallon's nose in it brought a smile to Bardock's face.

"Can't say - but you'd better haul ass, _ge'tah_. Dismissed."

Honor guard ... Well, Fasha and crew were lucky to miss this clusterfuck. Bardock had never done a stint at the Palace; hell, he had never even set foot inside the courtyard walls. And why would he? He was nothing more than a Low Class warrior to those in charge: one of many faceless and replaceable soldiers. It mattered little that he had fought in the War, worked his way up in the Saiyan Army, and had earned many accolades. The bottom was still just that. Yet, someone had taken notice and overridden Skallon. It was likely a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation.

_Think about it, Dock. Only an idiot would miss this chance to make connections. I just have to play my cards right._

For several years, Bardock had been trying to catch the ear of Paragus, the grizzled Head of Sciences. Paragus was one of the rare Saiyans who dealt in hard sciences and technology. It was rumored that he had been instrumental in the final takedown of Tuffle defenses before the Battle of the Full Moon, and in retro-engineering the captured technology, including armor and transportation. He would - hopefully - be receptive to some of Bardock's ideas. If Bardock could get a coveted transfer, he could be out from under Skallon's thumb. Then, nothing could stop his rise to the top.

For the last few months, all of his official (and unofficial) requests to meet with Paragus had gone unanswered. When Bardock questioned his superiors, all he received were excuses. That, coupled with being sent out on long term missions, made it difficult to get an audience or a transfer. And now he could not be sure that Skallon, out of pure vindictiveness, was not interfering.

Bardock would never know, but he was tired of flying against the wind. It was time to make his own fate ... which is what he always did. Yes, he might step on some tails along the way, but passivity got you nowhere except for dead.

The intense white sun blazed high in the cloudless red sky as he made his way towards the heavily guarded Palace Estate. It had not rained in several months; water reserves were running out, and it was not even the dry season yet. It was going to be a long and scorching summer, predicted to be the worst in decades. Scarcity of any sort often led to fierce battles among the remaining Saiyans on planet, in spite of the Crown's moratorium on killing their own until their numbers stabilized. Tribal loyalties were still strong, even after they had united under King Vegeta's command during the War.

He approached the Palace Complex. The Palace proper was a large building constructed in hard rock that had withstood the Tuffle War untouched, surrounded by a series of border walls that were more for visual separation than to keep anyone out. The center of the courtyard was an oasis of green growth and shimmering ponds: a private conservatory only for the royal family. If rumors were true, it held unique plants from the Saiyan home world of Sadal, rare species from the Tuffle lands, and a natural spring system. If the drought continued, the royals would find themselves under siege by their own people unless they were willing to share.

Three men clad in the black and red battle armor of the Royal Guard rose to meet him. His image had been sent ahead by Daekon, so they escorted him inside the walls without fuss to join a growing collection of soldiers, most smoking and talking. Bardock wiped the beads of moisture from his forehead with one hand before they could run into his eyes, and considered wearing a headband. Getting sweat in his eyes during combat could be deadly.

Bardock assumed the others had also been recruited last minute; as he touched ground, he saw others coming to land as well on the tiled walkway that led towards a tall and shining spire with the royal crest of Vegeta emblazoned in crimson: the Tower of Vegetasai where all administrative work took place. It was surrounded by a series of squat buildings that served as barracks and storage.

General Nappa emerged from the main dome to greet them. Today, the barrel-chested Saiyan wore the official uniform of the Royal Guard, complete with a red cape to indicate his rank. Bardock was not a fan of capes. They looked pretentious and could get you dead in combat. The massive warrior rubbed a cloth over the shaved sides of his head as he looked over the new arrivals. Normally, Nappa was a chatty sort, but at the moment he looked stressed. He clapped one hand on Bardock's shoulder in greeting.

"Eh, General Nappa. Captain First Class Bardock, reporting as commanded." Bardock hoped that Nappa could fill him in; they had fought side by side during the final days of the War, and they still had a good rapport.

Nappa flapped one hand impatiently, then began to walk towards the barracks. "Hell with the niceties, Bardock. We're on a schedule."

Bardock rushed to fall in step with the towering general. "Hey, can you tell me what the big damn deal is, Nappa? And how long is this shift anyway?"

"Heh. Why, ya got somewhere to be, Bardock?"

"No sir. I love standing around. It's my favorite past-time." Oh, how Bardock wished he'd saved that last nicstick. Nappa did not smoke, never had, and Bardock was damn sure he would not be able to light one up in the throne room.

"Dock, here's the deal. We've got important people comin' in, and we need everyone to be on their best behavior. That includes you. That means no smart-ass comments, no fucking around, nothing. Honor Guard is usually something that's earned after years of service. Keep that in mind." Nappa ticked off each point on his fingers as he spoke.

"Nappa, I never screw off on a job. You know that." Bardock felt a tinge of offense. No matter what he did off duty, he was deadly serious when working.

"Yeah, I know. Keep it that way, because I've been getting my ear chewed off about ya lately." Nappa turned, walked backward, and held up his hands to silence the murmurs. "Okay, _ge'tahu_ , listen up. Save any questions for later; you're gonna get outfitted, then you'll join the detail and we'll getcha all up to speed. You can pick up your personal things after the shift. Follow me."

The Honor Guard usually consisted of ten hand picked warriors that attended to the King and his court, and stood watch when dignitaries came in, and another ten were on reserve. The positions were usually given to Elites of good breeding and connections. It was rare for a Low Class to be given such an honor, and usually only after years and years of service. Today, the King had called for the full detail of fifty men, at the last moment.

Bardock and twenty other soldiers -likely Low Class as well, judging by their confused expressions - followed General Nappa into the Equipment dome. They were each given a new outfit and scouter, then sent to the locker rooms to get dressed. Bardock stripped down to his skivvies and donned the uniform of the Honor Guard: black plated armor with red shoulder plates and waist guards, full arm and leg greaves. He attached that silly blue cape to the epaulettes on his shoulders, then placed his new scouter over his left ear. They did not have much of a chance to speak to each other; General Nappa stood over them, tapping his foot in clear impatience.

"Less chatter, more changing," he scolded, as if they were young charges at a training school.

Once properly equipped, they followed in Nappa's wake as he led them down the Royal Processional: a long corridor of marbled tile lined by blazing torches that ended in a foreboding set of brass metal doors. Two guards stood watch in front, ceremonial lances crossed and fierce expressions on their faces. They were probably quite upset that some Low Class trash had been recruited, and pretended to pay no notice as the men were led into a small cubicle for the official briefing and told to stand at attention.

Bardock wondered how much trouble he would get in if he tried to bum a nicstick off of one of his neighbors, then wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.

"Attention," Nappa called, and clapped his hands to end any stray conversations.

In came a tall man, battle hardened, the sides of his head shaved but the rest of his hair pulled back into a long plume. Many scars lined his face and arms like webs. He wore the armor of a High Official as well. He walked in like he owned the place. Nappa saluted: one hand over his barreled chest, which he returned.

"Who the hell is this _ge'tah_ ," Bardock muttered.

"At ease." It was clear the man was used to talking to large crowds and used to wielding authority. It showed in how he carried himself and made eye contact with each warrior. "I am Celar, military advisor to the King. For today, I am also your commanding officer. I understand that most of you have been pulled from your usual duties with little notice."

A low mumble as people talked to each other, but Bardock did not participate. He just crossed his arms and waited for the man to get to the damn point.

"I'll get straight to it. Normally we don't have a full detail, but today is special." Celar kept a neutral expression as he spoke. "As you know, today is the official presentation of our new ve'osa ve'ho, and the palace is open to visitors and well wishers. This is a long standing tradition that we will not allow to be extinguished by our annexation. We expect a large crowd, and it is your job to keep the peace. In addition, we are expecting the imminent arrival of Lord Frieza of the PTO, along with his men. So I'm sure you can understand why our King has asked for his best to be on display."

More murmurs. "Lord Frieza... here?"

"I don't expect any problems, but I am damn sure going to be prepared for them. You will trade shifts between standing honor in the Throne Room and doing patrols. You will all program your scouters to GF314 for the duration of this mission. If there are any problems, you will notify me or General Nappa immediately. I shouldn't need to remind anyone to act with honor and restraint, especially when Frieza is here. Understood?"

Bardock, like the others, nodded in assent. Only an idiot would act out at this point, and Bardock had a healthy sense of self preservation.

"Good. I'll read off your names for assignment. Twenty men total will be in the Throne Room, and under my watch. The remaining thirty will be on rotating patrol, and will follow General Nappa for further briefing. I have word that Frieza's ship has just landed, so we have no time to waste."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Saiyan Language is used with permission from Megakat.
> 
> Phrases and words used in this chapter:
> 
> br'at - child
> 
> Cha'le - the Saiyan Goddess of Fate and Luck
> 
> eh - a greeting
> 
> ge'tah - ally/ friend - often used as a casual way to address another Saiyan
> 
> g're - more casual agreement, like 'yeah'
> 
> ji'tach - fighting team (ji'tachu - teams)
> 
> ve'osa ve'ho - crown prince

Things moved quickly after General Celar read their names off the roster. Not five minutes after donning the official uniform, Bardock and the other last-minute recruits joined the ranks of the Honor Guard standing watch in the Throne Room. Here, the king of Vegetasai and his warrior queen, along with their advisers, presided over their court in royal splendor.

He could not quite believe his luck. Only a day ago, he had been sitting at home in his skivvies drunk as hell and equally as pissed. Not that this was much of an improvement; now he was forced to stand around in one spot all damn day and be bored out of his mind.

Well, it could be worse. It could _always_ be worse. At least it was cool in the Palace, and he was sure the refreshments were better than what he had in cold store back at the apartment. And, he reminded himself, it was sure to piss off Skallon ... always a plus.

_Look at it this way. Maybe if my luck holds, I'll be able to find General Paragus and get a word in without Skallon fucking me over again._

The throne room of the House of Vegeta was an imposing natural amphitheater carved out the living rock, and had withstood bombardment during the Tuffle War unscathed. Beautiful stained glass windows fashioned from the sands of Vegetasai that showed legendary warriors and battles surrounded the podium. They had been blasted into shape by ki artisans and allowed natural light from the two suns inside. The rays were focused upon throne, surrounding the king and his court in a halo of blazing fire. The only other source of illumination came from the torches placed at regular intervals.

Above the throne, the royal crest had been carved into the rock and inlaid with blood red stones that glittered and dazzled the eye. Bold red and yellow banners, the colors of flame and the royal family, lined the walls. The walkway was tiled with red and white marble from the finest quarries. Ten warriors, armed with wicked ki lances and ready to act at the slightest threat, stood in file along the processional.

It was an imposing sight; an ostentatious display of might and power, and Bardock thought it was the most pretentious thing he'd ever seen in his life. There were more resources here than he was ever likely to make in his entire career. What a waste.

In Bardock's ear, his scouter crackled to life and Celar's authoritative tone interrupted his musings. "All men, be advised. Lord Frieza and his entourage have arrived. Come to full attention."

As he had been instructed during the earlier drill, Bardock stood at attention: back straight, feet apart, ki spear at the ready, and a fierce expression on his face.

Three strikes sounded on the massive stone doors that separated the throne room from the rest of the palace and provided yet another level of security. It was purely a ceremonial action, though. The adviser to the king entered, followed by the two men who had stood watch outside the doorway. After three steps, Celar halted and the other two peeled off to each side, their weapons held at the ready.

"Your Majesties," The older Saiyan's cultured voice echoed through the chamber. Celar held his head high, and there was no trace of the distaste he had shown earlier when talking about the Ice-jin tyrant. He was an excellent actor. "May I present the Honorable Lord Frieza, head of the North Planetary Trade Organization Faction."

Three beings entered, backlit, so that only their outlines could be distinguished. Their shadows stretched out long before them and well into the throne room as dark and ominous shapes. Although there had been little noise before, the room went dead silent as if the air itself had stopped moving.

A sense of unexplained dread settled over Bardock at the sight and sent cold talons raking down his spine. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his tail bristled in an unconscious response. To his left and right, he saw his fellow soldiers shift ever so slightly, and he knew that they were responding to his subtle body language and the acrid scent of fear that emanated from him.

_Pull your shit together, Dock. Don't screw this one up._

Once the three dignitaries passed the threshold into the throne room proper, the portals shut and the lighting shifted. That uncertain sense faded with the light, and Bardock felt foolish.

Lord Frieza, emissary of the Cold Empire and self-proclaimed Emperor of the North Galaxy, began his procession into the heart of the Saiyan Empire. He wore an expression of slight disdain, as if he were slumming. He was flanked on either side by his top two advisers, each of whom was rumored to be more powerful than King Vegeta, General Nappa, and most of the Saiyan court combined.

Zarbon, the Master of Assignments, walked to the right of Frieza's transport and tossed his plaited green hair like a high strung animal kept on a leash. He wore an expression of bored indifference, one that Bardock had seen him use on numerous occasions when dealing with his 'lessers". The teal-skinned aide held his nose up in the air as he passed.

To the tyrant's left walked the magenta-skinned Dodoria, General of the PTO troops. His eyes constantly darted about as he moved, alert to his surroundings. His homely features twisted into a barely contained look of disdain, his lined lips pulled back to show jagged teeth. He had placed his massive hands on his lips and he strutted in like he owned the place.

"Oh look, Zarbon," Frieza purred, his voice contained a slight rasp. He folded his clawed hands together, clicked them, then touched one finger to his black lips and chuckled. The light of the torches glinted off of his purple-hued dome. "The monkeys have put on their best faces for us. How thoughtful, don't you think?"

"Quite, Lord Frieza," Zarbon replied, but his eyes were elsewhere.

The Ice-jin regally guided his personal transport toward the podium. His ruby red eyes glinted as he looked upon each and every Saiyan warrior, as if assessing his own personal property and finding them wanting.

Bardock felt the apprehension return when those cold red orbs met his; he had to force himself not to break the stare and not to look away. _If these assholes sense any weakness, they'll go for the throat. You screw this up and you can kiss your career goodbye._

He had dealt with all three beings over the years, but had never felt such a sense of trepidation before. Granted, he had only met with Frieza once in person, when his _ji'tach_ had set a company record. Most of his interactions were with Zarbon and Bardock was sure that he was beneath their notice ... all three of them. So, why did it feel like someone had poured cold water down his back? Bardock knew Frieza was not paying attention to him personally, yet the anxiety remained. He could not seem to logic it away, and it made him jumpy.

He had such feelings before, and it had always heralded bad things.

It was one of Bardock's closest-kept secrets: he was highly superstitious. Many Saiyans were, but not to the extent that he was - and for good reason. A few times during his long career, he had experienced what he could only labeled as premonitions and he had learned to listen to them.

The first time was growing up in the State Orphanage in Sector Five: a dismal place with little food, a lack of clean water, and a severe problem with overpopulation. Children regularly got into fights or disappeared altogether, and it was still happening to this day if the rumors were true. For several nights, Bardock suffered terrible nightmares about a disaster, and finally he refused to sleep in his assigned bunk. No one listened until that night, when a boiler exploded next to where Bardock was supposed to have been. Then, they believed him.

The second time was just before the Tuffle War broke out. Bardock had been transporting supplies to one of the border posts and his transport had broken down. If he had been on time, he would have been vaporized - along with thousands of other Saiyans - in a vicious tactical strike that took out an entire city, the first salvo in a deadly war that claimed many lives and began the war proper.

The third was during a purge mission, his first as acting captain, and the one that had gained Zarbon's attention. It was a supposedly simple clean up job that the PTO army had botched. Bardock and crew had been called in to help clean house. In the end, they almost did not make it out. The only reason they lived at all was that Bardock had a 'bad feeling' about troop placement and numbers, one that proved to be correct. But by that point, his _ji'tach_ had learned to listen as well.

Call it fate, or the hand of Cha'le, or whatever. It did not really matter what it was. Each time had saved his life and pulled him from situations that should have gotten him dead. It was rare, but Bardock trusted it. Something was going to happen, something involving Frieza. Something bad. It did not feel like an immediate threat; instead it lingered on the edge of his perception, just enough to make his tail bristle.

Well, whatever the hell it was, he had a job to do. Fucking off would get him dead a lot quicker than some unformed omen.

To help himself focus, Bardock bit the inside of his bottom lip with one of his canines. It was not enough to break the skin, but enough to create a sharp spike of pain that pulled him out of the reactive state he had fallen into.

With Celar as escort, the three beings approached. Once at the podium, Celar stepped to one side. Frieza raised a hand; like obedient lapdogs, the other two halted in place. Without being asked or invited, Frieza guided his transport past the Adviser, up the stairs and to the throne itself, in front of the King and Queen.

"Hold your positions. Weapons at display," Celar commanded, then held out one hand, palm up. His body language betrayed his tension as he and the rest of the Honor Guard, waited and watched. That eerie silence returned and time seemed to stretch out.

King Vegeta rose to his feet in response. He was a tall and powerful man with flame shaped hair, a stern look upon his bearded face, and fire in his eyes. He wore no crown, he needed none. His white and red armor bore the Royal Crest on the left chest plate and he wore jewelry to indicate his rank upon his wrapped tail. He was a powerful warrior, the strongest on Vegetasai, and he would not be cowed by this Ice Demon. The queen did not rise, she remained seated with her child wrapped safely in her arms.

"Welcome to our home, Lord Frieza." The king's voice was strong and carried easily to the back of the room, if he chose.

Bardock watched as the two rulers conversed, but he could not hear a word. The room seemed to vibrate with tension. The throne room had been built with acoustics in mind, yet the conversation between the king and the dictator was to remain private. At the bottom of the stairs, Celar stood with his arms crossed and a growing look of discontent.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation, the king took his seat again, an indicator that the audience was over. "Thank you for coming, Lord Frieza."

"Oh, it's nothing, Vegeta." Frieza waved one hand in a casual motion, and anyone watching could see the king grimace at the familiar address. "I must say how impressed I have been with the performance of my Saiyan troops. Perhaps your son will join their ranks when he is older. You _did_ say that he was the strongest born in generations, did you not?"

"Yes, Lord Frieza." The King spoke through clenched teeth.

"Hm, how very ... interesting. Well, I must take my leave now. We will talk again later. Good day, Vegeta."

Frieza turned his transport away so that his back faced the King, a subtle insult, and looked down upon the court as if it were he who was truly king. Then he descended the stairs and took his leave. There was utter silence until the doors shut behind the tyrant, and everyone seemed to breath a collective sign of relief.

The rest of Bardock's shift passed by with little drama. Other high ranking individuals came to see the new prince, have an audience with the king and queen, and to further their own agendas. At one point, he noticed Skallon chatting up both King Vegeta and Celar, but after a while all the faces started to blur together. He was glad when the shift change occurred and they exited the throne room in an orderly fashion as their replacements came in from grounds duty.

General Nappa waited for them as they filed into the office and handed off their lances. "All right, _ge'tahu_ \- ya got five minutes to take care of any personal needs - so smoke 'em if ya got 'em. And don't hit me up for any nicsticks, I don't smoke. After that, we're gonna walk patrol in pairs. I'll send a route map to your tablets along with rotations. Any problems - and I mean anything at all, notify me immediately. At the end of your rotation, you'll have an opportunity to pay your respects to our new _ve'osa_ _ve'ho_. I suggest ya do so. The Crown has a long memory. Dismissed."

Bardock knew a hint when he heard one.

His shift on the palace grounds went by quicker because he was able to walk about with others and talk. No one else had experienced anything unusual during Frieza's visit, but he had not expected them to. The whispers of change were always just for his ears.

After an entire day of special duty, Bardock was more than ready to go home. Being honor guard was not an honor, it was a slow and boring form of torture. He was glad to shed the pretentious armor and pull his own blue chest plate over his head. It was old and dented, but it felt like a second skin. He ran his hands through his long black bangs, and then placed his personal scouter over his left ear.

Others followed suit, becoming themselves once again. Bardock knew several of the other men who had been drafted, so he had not been the only Low Class last minute recruit. Some he had worked with over the years, some he only knew by face.

" _Eh_ Bardock, we're heading to the Nest afterwards, to get a few drinks. You coming with?" A tall and lanky young recruit with long bangs that hung into his eyes, a kinked tail, and wearing a gold and maroon chest plate spoke up.

Normally, Bardock never turned down an opportunity to get a good buzz on, but he was not - for once - in a social mood. The inactivity had sent his mind wandering into dangerous territory: his _ji'tach_ , his career, his future, Gine ... That, and Skallon had stared daggers at him earlier.

"Nah, I'm going to pay my respects, _ge'tah_. I've got to make a good impression. Have a few for me," Bardock replied.

The other's eyebrows rose and he snorted in disbelief. "You're turning down a bar run to kiss up. You suffer a head wound?"

"Yeah, first time for everything," Bardock growled - annoyed at the younger man's tone and implied disrespect. "See you around."

Bardock entered the Throne Room again and joined the visiting line with the rest of the rank and file. When it was his turn he walked up the stairs, stood before the king and queen, then placed his right hand over his chest and bowed to show his respect.

"Please, come forward. Captain Bardock, correct? We thank you for your service to the Crown." Queen Kale beckoned with one manicured hand for him to come closer. "Have you come to give a blessing?"

The Queen of Vegetasai was a petite woman, like many Saiyanesses were, but her aura was powerful. She had won the right to sit on the throne through combat, and her reputation as a fierce warrior was well known. When Bardock approached, she sized him up, then allowed a smile to curve upon her lips.

Bardock was caught off guard; he had not expected the queen to remember his name. "Uh ... yeah. That's me. I'm here to give my blessing to the new prince, that he will grow strong."

Held on the queen's lap, wrapped in a traditional natal sack made of the softest red cloth, a tiny child lay within the safety of his mother's arms. Like his father, the infant prince's ebony hair stood up, and his black eyes glowed like coals as he stared up at Bardock, unblinking.

A new life. A blank slate. Bardock had never seen an infant before, outside of the Natal Pods on the Base, and certainly never one so young.

"Please, go ahead." The queen nodded her assent, and brushed one finger against the child's pudgy cheek.

As was traditional, he held out his right hand towards the newborn and allowed his chi to mingle with the infant's for a few seconds. In response the Crown Prince giggled, and waved his long tail. The sound evoked an odd emotion that Bardock had no words for, an odd ache in his chest that he did not understand.

"I think he likes you." With a laugh, Queen Kale smoothed the child's unruly locks with obvious affection. Was this how all females were with their children, or was it just a luxury only the royals could afford?

"I have a _br'at_ on the way," Bardock blurted, and immediately wanted to kick himself. _Why did I just tell her that?_

"Do you? Congratulations, Captain. When is he due?"

Bardock felt his cheeks color; he did not even know the sex of it. Chances were good that it would be male, since female children were rare. He placed one hand behind his head and shifted. "A few months from now," he extrapolated and wished he had kept his mouth shut in the first place. "May I ask a question, Your Majesty?"

"Of course." Her obsidian eyes sparkled in amusement. Kale was a beautiful woman, strong and fierce, and nothing like Gine. The King was _definitely_ a fortunate man.

"Is it true that royal children aren't kept in Natal Pods?"

Kale chuckled, a rich sound that sent a chill down Bardock's spine. "Is that old rumor still going around? Well, allow me to clear that up for you, Captain. Our _br'atu_ are no different from yours in that matter."

As if responding to his mother's words, the Prince made a high pitched squeak, then curled up and closed his eyes. His tail, too long for his body, drooped over the edge.

"I think he's tired. It's been a long day." The Queen tucked the fuzzy tail back into the warmth of the nursing sack, then took up the child into her arms. "Thank you for coming by, Captain Bardock."

"May the Gods smile upon the House of Vegeta." Bardock reverted to the stock response, a safe bet.

"I wish you strong sons and daughters, warrior." the queen replied, a traditional blessing.

Bardock had not thought much about family. Most Low Class Saiyans did not bother with it, forming temporary partnerships at best and leaving their children to be raised by Natal Pods and then the State. This child would never know want, never be at a disadvantage because of parentage, never question who his father was. He would always know these things, always ... belong.

 _Stop being a sentimental fool, Dock._ To calm the thoughts and cover up his growing discomfort, Bardock gave another respectful salute to the king and queen, then left the Throne Room and all the emotions that it stirred up behind him.

When Bardock stepped out of the palace proper and into the surrounding complex, he gleefully lit up a nicstick that he had managed to bum off another soldier in the locker room. He took a long drag and grunted in satisfaction as the stinging smoke filled his lungs and his head started to buzz. After a few puffs, he felt the tension of the day leave his muscles and the fuzzy feeling in his mind start to pass. Saiyans are not good with inaction, and Bardock was worse than most.

Lost in thought, he turned a corner and ran into General Nappa - almost literally. The former Commander of Armies was still a decent ally, and maybe he would be willing to help out. _Maybe ... just maybe ... I won't have to go to Personnel, or talk to Skallon._

" _Eh_ , Nappa." Bardock bobbed his head and raised one hand in greeting. "You done for the night?"

"Nah. Duty always calls, ya know how it is. Oh hey, Dock, I saw ya chattin' up the Queen earlier. I wouldn't hit that if I were you." Nappa rumbled deep in his broad chest, his version of laughter.

"You're fucking hilarious, Nappa. You been talking to Skallon, too?" Bardock's brows knit together and he scowled. To keep from snapping at the massive General, he took a long drag off of his nicstick then blew the smoke out of his nostrils. He needed Nappa's help, not to have the other man pissed off at him.

Nappa's mustached face twisted in distaste as he waved away the cloud of smoke with one massive paw, then gave a toothy grin. "Gotta poke fun somehow, Dock. And your reputation does proceed you."

Bardock sighed, annoyed that his personal business was now the talk of Vegetasai. Hell, he just found out about the pregnancy the other day! But then, Saiyans were curious and notorious gossips who loved anything that might lead to a fight. "Oh, what the hell! Has she been running around and telling everyone?"

"Nah, Skallon's been on about it," Nappa explained. "I'd watch my back around him for the next few days if I were you, Dock. He's gunning for someone to blame, and your tour of duty today didn't help."

"Thanks for the warning. Although I already knew. I could practically see the smoke pouring out of his ears when he saw me standing Honor Guard." When he thought about the sour look on Skallon's face, Bardock snickered. Small victories….

"Heh, well … I wouldn't gloat yet, _ge'tah_." Nappa cleared his throat, and placed one massive paw on Bardock's shoulder. "So, where ya off to now, Dock? Gonna find some company?"

Wisely, Bardock ignored the bait. "Pft. I wish … No, I'm off to Personnel, maybe a bar after I run some errands. Speaking of Skallon, you don't happen to know his address off the top of your head, would you?"

The General had an excellent memory, and everyone knew it. He side-eyed Bardock. "Am I gonna regret telling you? Ya got something that can't be dealt with here on base?"

As if Nappa … and the rest of Vegetasai … didn't already know.

" …" Bardock crossed his arms, and turned his face to one side. "It's nothing like that. Just a personal issue."

Nappa kept a straight face, but tugged at the end of his thin mustache, a tell that he was keeping himself from laughing. "Wasn't one of your former squad trainees his daughter? You should already know it. Right?"

Bardock growled low in his throat and ran one hand over his face. He had hoped that Nappa, of all people, would not give him the run-around. "Are you going to help me or not, Nappa?"

The two men stared at each other. Nappa grumbled to himself, and shifted on the balls of his feet while he thought. Nappa was a family man in the end, and that was what decided him. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, then exhaled. "Dock, you're lucky I like you. Just do me a favor, _ge'tah_. If you go there and start shit, well, just make sure to finish it on your own. I can't bail ya out of this one."

"Deal." With a grin, Bardock finished off his nicstick and flicked the burnt stub to the ground.

"Disgusting habit," Nappa mumbled. He took his tablet from one of the red hip pockets and tapped the touch screen with a bitten fingernail. "Okay, I'm sending the address to your tablet right now."

"Thanks, Nappa." A soft chirp indicated the message had been sent. Bardock checked, and scowled. "Sector One. I should have known…"

It was no surprise that Skallon lived in one of the 'ancestral homes' in Sector One, carved out of rock much like the Palace itself. Those dwellings dated back to the days when the Saiyans had first settled on Vegetasai, and only the Elite families could afford to live there, families with bloodlines that could be traced back to the Homeworld itself.

"Don't mention it. And if anyone asks, ya didn't get it from me. If I hear otherwise, I'm comin' after you."

" _G're ge'tah_ … certain death, got it." For the first time since Gine had joined … and then quit … the team, Bardock felt that things might be improving. He allowed himself a satisfied grin - the very one that had gotten him in trouble with so many females - and decided to push his luck. "Hey, while I'm racking up favors, you don't happen to know if he's been blocking my requests, do you?"

Nappa clicked his tongue as he thought. "Heh, well, Skallon really doesn't confide in me much. Politics, ya know. Why?"

"I've been trying to talk to General Paragus for months now, and my requests keep getting lost."

"Paragus? That ass-kisser," Nappa spat. "Why the hell do you wanna talk to him? He's always stuck in that damn lab of his, playing with his toys, and hiding from the real action." It was well known that Nappa and Paragus did not see eye to eye.

"I'm not trying to be his best friend, Nappa. I've just got an idea I wanted to run by him. You know, tinkering ideas. Like in the old days."

"Well, I just happen to be goin' that way. Maybe you run into him on accident. Heh. Would serve him right, the preening fool." Nappa took two large strides, then waved one big hand in a casual invite to follow along and roll the dice of fate.

The waning light of the twin suns cast absurdly long shadows of the two warriors as Bardock hurried to catch up with the General's rapid pace. "Thanks, Nappa. I'll owe you one."

"I'll add it to the tally. Oh look - you're in luck. Here he comes now, the big blowhard."

As Paragus approached the former Commander of Armies, the two men exchanged quick nods, more out of protocol than actual respect for each other. He ignored Bardock altogether. He held a tablet in one hand, and kept glancing at it.

Nappa cleared his throat, and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, and plastered a nonchalant expression on his stubbled face. " _Eh_ , Paragus. What brings you out of the basement? Dust finally get to ya?"

Paragus was an unusual Saiyan. Although he held the rank of General, it was mostly an honorary title. He was of average height, with short spiked hair, tufted sideburns, and an intense but distant expression. His skin was pale from years spent in a laboratory. Rumor had it that he was focused on his career, and had little time for anything, or anyone, else.

"I was on my way to check up on the recent engine upgrades, if you must know. I don't trust those PTO engineers," Paragus sniffed. His dismissive tone made it clear that he felt he had better things to do than waste his time dealing with the Commander.

Nappa rolled his eyes in response, but Paragus did not seem to notice. Bardock did, though, and bit his lip to keep from snickering. The large General nodded in Paragus' direction as if to say 'here's your chance'.

Bardock cleared his throat, the held out one hand in greeting. "General Paragus, can I talk to you?"

Paragus glanced up for a second, but did not make eye contact. He continued to stare at his tablet and made a big show out of using it, so that he had an excuse not to shake Bardock's hand. "Do I know you?"

 _Don't let it get to you. Just think of it as … networking._ "No sir. I'm Captain First Class Bardock, on special assignment. I have some ideas that I wanted to talk to you about."

Paragus leveled a glare in Nappa's direction, who just shrugged his shoulders.

"The King wants to see ya when you're done. Bardock just happened to be here when you showed up."

"I'll bet he did." Paragus looked down his nose at Bardock, noted the hairstyle and dress. Bardock could see the man jumping to conclusions based on his appearance. Then the scientist cleared his throat. "There are proper channels for such things ... Captain ... See that you use them in the future. Nappa, tell the King that I will speak with him after I have completed the checks. Good day."

It was an obvious dismissal, and Bardock's temper flared. It had been a long day. "The hell! I've been flying through hoops for months now! All I want is a few minutes of your time, and we're already talking! What have you got to lose?"

Paragus had little patience for those who could not further his career. He gave a heavy sigh, then looked Bardock over again. "I don't have time for this nonsense, or for those currently out of favor." He turned on his heel, snapped his tail once again and started to walk away.

" ... You've got to be kidding," Bardock hissed, and clenched his fists. His tail puffed and a slight breeze ruffled his hair as his ki started to respond.

"Hey Dock," Nappa warned, "keep it under wraps."

"General!" Bardock raised his voice, but refused to go after the other man. "I've got three words for you: Blutz Wave Generator."

Paragus stopped, paused, then turned around. "What did you..."

"You heard me. Something like that would have won the War, would completely change the way we do business. Now do I have your attention?" One step, and Bardock came face to face with the Head of Sciences.

The previous look of annoyance, as if Bardock were beneath his notice, faded - but only for a second. Paragus folded his arms and took a deep breath. "You've got sixty seconds to explain, Captain. Don't waste them."

 _Got him_... Bardock grinned, and felt a similar rush to when he landed the final blow on an enemy.

"I want to build a portable Blutz Wave Generator, one that can be taken on missions. It wouldn't matter if it's day or night, if we're in a new moon phase, or if there's no moon at all. Just think about the possibilities ... We can equip all of our teams; they would be able to take on Oozaru form whenever they wanted. Hell ... we'd be unstoppable! We'd rise through the ranks of the PTO in no time. Frieza would have to notice us then."

"Ambitious. And how do you plan to do this?"

"I need to collect and analyze active Blutz waves. I built and programmed a hand held to do that, but I need to be put on an active mission where I can gather data. Once I do that, I can program the device to emit Blutz waves on command. It will be self propelled so that all troops can be exposed at the same time - "

"So you don't have a working prototype?" Paragus interrupted.

"Yes, and no ... I've got a basic device, but I don't have the raw data I need to program yet, and I don't have the facilities to properly analyze or test it. That's why I need your help - you're the Head of Sciences. You have to see what an advantage this would be." As an afterthought, Bardock added the final hook: "Just think of how it would further our careers."

"Hmph." The older Saiyan unfolded his arms, looked at his tablet, then tapped the screen with his stylus. "You can come by and talk to me later. Bring what you have and I'll decide if it's viable. And Captain, you had best not be wasting my time."

"I'm not." His tablet chimed, and Bardock resisted the urge to check it.

"I've set an appointment time for you. See that you are not late. Now I have business to attend to." Paragus gave both Nappa and Bardock a curt nod, then turned on his heel and walked off. The interview was obviously over.

Nappa shook his head and ran a hand through his mohawk. "Well, that went well. I'm not looking forward to hearing him bitch about 'bypassing proper channels'."

"Don't worry, Nappa. It won't come back to bite you in the ass. I promise," Bardock replied. He wondered how much shit he was going to get for going over Skallon's head ... then decided he did not care much. "Well, see you later Nappa. And ... thanks."

"Yeah, well, don't mention it. No ... really, just don't."


	8. Family Affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where Credit is due: Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me kind permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story.
> 
> Words used in this chapter:  
> Br’at - child (pl. br’atu)  
> Ch nee ji’ta  - "Blood and Battle", an oath/curse  
> Da’ja - grandfather  
> Ge’tah - ally (pl ge’tahu)  
> Ja’ta - father  
> Ji’tach - Saiyan fighting team  
> Matapa - motherfucker  
> Posh’ri - alcohol  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------  
> A/N:  A big ‘thank you’ to my patient betas LilahMontgomery and Pixymisa89  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------  
> 

Bardock was among the last of the soldiers to stop by the main armory after a long day. As Bardock shed his borrowed formal wear and donned his own armor, he started to feel more like himself. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts of the upcoming meeting with Paragus that he walked right past several of his allies without even seeing them.

"... Dock? Hey, Dock - you in there?"

Someone snapped their fingers under his nose, and Bardock snapped back to the present with a visible jerk.

Bardock blinked. He hated to be caught off guard like that. "What did you say?"

Three men, all drinking buddies of Bardock's, stood in a group and stared at him with confused looks on their faces. The speaker, a younger man with shaggy long hair pulled back into thick braids and a crooked smile due to many blows to the face, gave a quick snicker.

"Welcome back, Dock. I said, we're going to Chiv's. You wanna come with, get blasted?"

Usually, Bardock would be all over such an offer. The thought of grabbing a drink or five and talking shit would be a great wrap-up to a long and annoying day, but not today.

"Nah, you  _ge'tahu_  go ahead without me. I've got some things to wrap up first."

His allies stared at him, mouths open and eyebrows raised. Bardock knew that saying 'no' would only fuel the rumor mill, but he knew that he was too distracted to have a good time. He took off before they could try to convince him into coming along.

Besides, going to a bar would just delay the inevitable and Bardock was not a man to run from confrontation… for too long. No, he had won accolades for charging headlong and recklessly into battles, for bravery and heroics, for quick thinking and ambition. Well, usually. So why had he let this thing with Gine drag on for so damn long?

For the most part, Bardock had not put much thought into procreating and he certainly had not planned on children until his career was set .Truth be told, there were probably plenty of his spawn running around Vegetasei after his numerous liaisons over the years. If so, no one had bothered to let him know and he did not care to track them down.

Saiyan females were responsible for their reproductive cycles and any resulting offspring and most males were not expected to stick around. Most Low Class Saiyan children were lucky to be raised by their mothers instead of the Crown - so most females did not expect much. Bardock knew that he could not provide for a kit, but he had decided that if he ever found out that he had fathered one, that the child would at least know his name. All it took was a quick trip to Personnel to take credit.

The birth rate, due to the Saiyan lifestyle, was already low. Most children did not survive past their tenth year, or sometimes past their first mission. And for some reason, most of the children born were male. In spite of that, little care had been taken in the past to ensure that they survived into adulthood … except for now.

Before the devastation of the Tuffle War and the resulting mass extinction of the Saiyan population, no one cared much about whether their progeny survived or not. Vicious infighting between tribes helped to weed out the weak, leaving the strong to reap the rewards. It was simply survival of the fittest, the way of things. But after the war, that attitude changed, it had to. Along with forbidding one Saiyan to kill another without a good reason, the Crown started to encourage adults to raise up their children instead of allowing them to die or to ship them off to an orphanage.

Any male who chose to contribute financially towards a child's upkeep and training after they were released from the Natal Pods were rewarded with an increase in food and water allotments, pay, and housing benefits. In spite of this, most males still did not want to bother, did not want to be 'tied down.' Bardock was of this mind set, or had been up until recently when the choice had been made for him.

Well, it wasn't all bad, he supposed. All he had to do was just stop by Personnel, fill out the the forms and presto … his wages would be garnished and his responsibilities met. When the br'at popped out of his pod, he would stick his head in the room, say 'Hey, I'm your old man", show the kid some combat techniques every now and then, and get on with his life. Gine, who expected nothing from him, ought to be so overjoyed that she would piss herself. This was an awesome plan; everybody got what they wanted!

Bardock cracked his knuckles, pulled his stash from his chest pocket and lit up another nic, then strolled through the metal gates as the Big Sun drew towards the horizon and bathed the sky in blood.

The Personnel office was usually manned by a bored and lonely red skinned Brench woman, one of the many soldiers who had been brought in by the PTO when Frieza annexed the Saiyan Nation. There were many non-combatant positions that any reasonable Saiyan warrior would not be caught dead doing, so off-worlders were chosen to fill in the gaps. Most likely, anyone sent to Vegetasei was likely being punished. Bardock certainly would consider being sent to this hellhole as a punishment.

So Bardock was caught off guard when he walked in, expecting to see the mild mannered Brench clerk and instead found a tall and curvy female sitting there, her booted feet kicked out on the desk and her hands behind her head, looking like she was on leave. Bardock knew this particular female … of course .. from several earlier nighttime trysts. She had been a favorite of his for a while until they had a falling out and she tried to ruin his reputation, and his face. Things had been awkward for a while until she had shipped off to another section.

" _Matapa_ ," he grumbled under his breath, and blew plumes of smoke out of his nostrils. "I don't need this shit today."

There was nothing to be done,but suck it up. He strutted up to the desk, placed both palms on the smooth surface and leaned in towards the bored female.

"Rutaba," he drawled, and flashed his best 'player' grin, as if nothing had happened. "When did you roll back into town?"

She opened her eyes lazily, looked him up and down and gave an amused snort. She did not remove her feet, or shift position. "Eh, Dock. Haven't seen your scraggly tail around in a while. What happened, did I scare you off? Or, are you too smitten by that little flea bite I keep hearing about? What's her name, again?"

"Oh fuck off," Bardock hissed, and his tail tightened around his waist. "Look Rutaba, I don't need shit from you right now. You can hate me all you want, just do your damn job and cut the commentary."

"You mean you haven't swung by for a quickie,  _ge'tah_? If you're not here for my dazzling good looks and excellent conversation skills, then why are you here, Dock?" Rutaba took a big swig of liquid. "Besides, in order to hate you, I'd have to give a shit."

Bardock rubbed the nape of his neck with one calloused palm, dug his fingers into the growing knots of tension and took in a big breath through his nostrils. "Ha ha. Tempting, but no. I'm here to … establish paternity."

Rutaba did a spit-take and began to choke. Large tears coursed down her cheeks and her face turned a bright red as she gasped for air. "What,  _you_?! Vegetasei's biggest man whore? I must have heard you wrong." She stuck one finger in an ear and wiggled it in a theatrical manner.

_Don't react. Don't give her the satisfaction._  Bardock rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yes. Don't make this any more awkward."

.

"Heh heh," she chuckled and gave him a wide grin that exposed all of her canines. "Awww, that's so touching! Congrats, Dock! So, what happened? Some female finally get you by the balls? Because I know you're not here to take credit for  _our_  son."

At first, her words did not register. "What?" Bardock finally managed to sputter, then wanted to kick himself for the second time that day.

A few seconds crawled by in agonizing silence before Rutaba cawed with laughter. "Bwahahaha! Aw, don't get your tail in a knot, Dock. I'm just yanking you. I don't want any  _br'atu_. The little shits would take away from my fighting time. But ….Oh Gods, that was precious! You should have seen your face! Thought you were gonna piss yourself!"

Bardock gritted his teeth. "Funny. . .Not!"

Still laughing, her face red, Rutaba sat up straight and then with a few keystrokes, pulled up his file. "Y'know, I'd already heard from the rumor mill that you'd knocked up General Skallon's  _noncombatant_  daughter." She spat the word like it tasted sour, like a curse. "I don't get it, Dock - why her? From what I hear, she's a waste of space. Can't fight, can't hold her own. Hell, she's probably going to spawn weak little kits too."

"Gods damn it, does  _everyone_ know about this?"

"Nah, I'm sure there's an ass-backward planet on the frontier that hasn't gotten the news yet. I don't know why you're so shocked, though. You know how people love a good, juicy, rumor. And this one is especially good. Captain Bardock, ladies' man, tied down to some bitch."

"Let's just get this over with," Bardock growled, already starting to regret his timing.

"I wouldn't bother. Too many kits die during birth, you know. And with a weak little female like that Gine, she's probably not likely to make it through either. You should find yourself a strong woman if you want to procreate, Dock." Rutaba ran her tongue over her teeth slowly, then gave him a lascivious wink. "Why don't you do yourself a big favor. Just give her a good punch in the stomach and start over."

Rutaba was not the only Saiyan who had suggested such a thing. Hell, Bardock himself would have agreed with her only a few months ago ,ut to his growing horror, he discovered that the thought actually bothered him now.

What the  _hell_  is wrong with me? What did Gine do to me? Why do I care?

Before he realized it, Bardock had bared his teeth, slammed his fists down and gotten in Rutaba's face. "Stay out of my business! Just fucking make the change!"

"Touched a nerve? Maybe the rumors are right, and you're going soft in the head, Dock. So, it  _is_  Gine, right?"

_Don't blow up the room. Don't blow up the room. Just don't … Skallon already hates you enough_ …Bardock knew he would feel embarrassed about this slip of temper later. It would only feed the gossip. "Yes. It's Gine. Now let's just get this over with, okay?"

:"Sure thing, Dock. And don't say I never did you any favors."

Bardock hovered over her shoulder and watched as Rutaba entered the data, to make sure she didn't fuck him over further. Rutaba poked at the screen idly with one finger, taking her sweet-ass time.

"Done. Say goodbye to your pay, Dock. You're welcome. And, for the record, I think you're making a colossal mistake. The weakling is just trying to chain you down, and you're letting her."

Bardock snorted. "Like I haven't heard that a million times." He turned on his heel and marched out of the small and stuffy office.

"Give me a call if you're lonely," Rutaba shouted at his retreating back. "And, nice ass!"

Bardock dismissively twitched the tip of his tail in her direction with a few short flicks, a nonverbal notice that he was not interested.

A quick stop by Skallon's office showed that the General was not on duty, and no one had seen him either. Now he had two reasons to take a trip to Sector One. Even though Bardock had taken credit, he was not required to let Gine know, but he wanted to make damn sure that  _Skallon_  did! He wanted his command back as of yesterday. And, maybe, he could finally break free from her hold and get back to his life before his reputation was shot to hell.

The hot air outside blasted into him like a punch to the gut; the sky was the color of new blood or a raging inferno, with no clouds to temper the scorching warmth. The ground was so hot that he could feel it through his insulated boot soles. Beads of perspiration coursed down his face and neck, and immediately drenched him.

He took to the air and cast a rueful look towards Sector Five- fondly known as the Armpit of Vegetasei- where all of his favorite hangouts were. A few minutes of flight, and his mouth was bone dry and sweat poured off his body. He ignored such minor physical annoyances because a warrior did not allow such small distractions to affect him. But... the thought of a tall cold glass of beer with beads of condensation running down the sides, made him sigh.

"I would just love to get hammered right now. Or laid. Or both. But … business first and pleasure later." Bardock set his lips in a grim expression and he increased his speed.  _Just think of this as just another combat round. Get in, get out, and don't overthink it._

Section One was the oldest constantly occupied Saiyan community on the planet. It predated both the Palace and the Capital city itself. It contained the very first dwellings created by the Saiyans after they had landed on Vegetasei, then called Planet Plant, and only those of exclusive and ancient Elite bloodlines were allowed to live there, some of whom could trace their ancestry back to the old Saiyan homeworld of Sadala. It was the complete opposite of the soaring metallic towers that had been built later with Tuffle technology, and the prefab domes used by the PTO to house their armies … and keep people in their place.

The Ancestral Homes were rough dwellings that had been hewn into tall rocky towers and hollowed out. Many stood several stories high, connected by rock bridges, and appeared rough and primitive. Over the centuries, some houses had become overrun with thick leathery vines that could withstand Vegetasei's driest seasons, making their shapes lost to the growth. Inside, though, was a different matter. The rooms were cool, spacious, and supposedly comfortable as hell; some even had covered gardens and private wells. No one that Bardock knew personally, except for General Nappa and Gine, had ever set foot in one.

Well, this ought to piss off the snobby locals then.

General Skallon's home was one of four dwellings in a loose semicircle, all connected by a smooth path of stones for a walkway and a large common area. In the middle stood a statue of a proud Saiyan warrior, upraised sword clasped in one hand and the severed head of a Tuffle in the other, a fierce scowl on his marbled face. Bardock had no idea who the hell he was supposed to be.

He put on his best smile and casually strolled up the walkway to Skallon's house while the neighbors peered out of their windows. He knocked three times on the carved sandstone door, half expecting an alarm to go off, then folded his arms and waited. When no one responded, he knocked again, this time pounding on the door.

The front door swung open without a sound, and a cool breeze drifted out. Bardock expected to see Gine, or perhaps Skallon, but instead he was greeted by a young kit. The boy had ridiculously long hair that came down to his calves, was dressed in green and black battle armor, and wore a curious yet guarded expression on his pointed face. His tail was not wrapped around his waist, instead it drooped behind him - a signal that the child felt comfortable in his environment. He stared up at Bardock, and his brow furled.

Who the hell was this  _br'at_? Oh yeah, Gine had mentioned early on when they were … getting to know each other better … that she already had a child. If Bardock squinted, he could see the resemblance in the young boy's eyes and nose. For the life him him, Bardock could not remember the kit's name.

"What d'you want?" The boy puffed up in imitation of adult behavior, arms crossed and face stern. He was supposed to look intimidating, but failed.

Bardock blinked and managed to suppress a snicker. " Uh … I'm here to talk to General Skallon. Why don't you run along and fetch him?"

The boy tilted his head to one side and scrunched up his nose. The ends of his mouth curled up in a mischievous grin. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" Bardock could not keep the annoyance out of his voice

"Because Da'ja isn't here. Duh"

"Okay…" Bardock rubbed his hands over his face in frustration to keep from throttling Gine's son. This little shit was being obstinate on purpose. "What about Gine?"

"She had to go and get a new job because her stupid asshole of a boss fired her. If I run into him, I'm going to kick his ass. No one messes with my mah." The boy puffed up, his hair rose and his tail started to lash in agitation.

Bardock felt one of his eyes start to twitch. This, among many reasons, was why he was not fond about dealing with children. He bit the inside of his lip and resisted the urge to cuff the mouthy little brat. "That's great, kiddo, but is she here?"

The boy glared and looked him over again. "Maybe," he said slyly, "who's asking?"

" _Ch nee ji'ta_ ,":Bardock cursed. "Look, is she here or not?"

The boy huffed, his cheeks puffed out, and after an unnecessarily long pause he replied: . "Yeah."

"Go and get her,: Bardock hissed through teeth clenched so tight that the muscles on his jaw twitched, each word carefully enunciated.

With a huff and a cheeky glare, the boy turned and yelled over his shoulder but did not move from his spot. "Maaaaaah! Some spikey-headed doofus is here to see you!"

"Raditz, really…what have I told you about mouthing off?" Gine's exasperated voice came from inside the house. "Who is it?"

"Dunno."

When Bardock tried to enter the cool foyer to get out of the heat, the boy continued to block his path and glare up at him. "You can't come in here until Mah says it's okay."

Gine came into the hallway, running her hands through her shaggy hair. She wore a form-fitting outfit that drew attention to the swelling of her stomach, and no armor. She appeared hot and distracted, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Bardock. One small hand went to her mouth and her dark eyes went wide.

"B - Bardock? I … I didn't expect to see you here." Gine placed her hands over her stomach.

"Wait,  _this_ is Bardock?" Raditz drew up to his full height and stepped into Bardock's personal space. His eyes, so much like Gine's, narrowed and he clenched his hands into fists, ready to get into a scrap. "You can't treat my Mah like that!"

"Raditz, no fighting in the house," Gine scolded and pulled the boy back. "Now go on and let Bardock come inside."

"But Mah - !"

"I said, get going." Gine pointed with one finger. "I'd like to talk to Bardock. Alone."

Raditz grumbled and mumbled under his breath as he shuffled away, dragging his crooked tail behind him. But before he exited, he turned back to give Bardock one last look. "I'm watching you."

Gine chuckled, a nervous response. "I'm sorry about him, Bardock. He's just … well, going through a rough patch. Come in."

Once he stepped past the front step and into the cool and comfortable front room, Gine shut the door and then turned to face him. Her dark brown eyes fixed upon his, and she rubbed her belly for reassurance. The look of desperation that she tried to keep off of her features was betrayed by the pheromones of anxiety and the way she held her tail.

"Bardock- "

Before she could say anything else, and possibly lose his focus, Bardock cut her off. He had to do this quick, a surgical strike, just like he would any other mission. To dawdle and give her reason to think would allow her also to work her wiles upon him. He placed one hand behind his head, his neck still covered with a sheen of sweat, and scratched at his scalp. "Look, Gine, I stopped by to talk to your  _ja'ta_ , but he wasn't in. Um … I wanted you to know I took credit for the  _br'at._ "

The look of hope that spread over her heart-shaped face. The wide smile that followed and the way she clasped her hands together above her heart felt like a knife in his heart. Damn it, why did she have to  _do_  that?

"You did? You do? Bardock … I …"

"When he's born, you can put my name on his registry." Bardock broke eye contact. He could not keep looking at her without … feelings … starting to rise up in his traitorous mind and chip away at his resolve.

"That's wonderful, Bardock!" Gine pressed her hands to her bosom, a slight blush across her cheeks, as she waited for him to continue. Clearly, she wanted something more from him; she always seemed to want more than he could give.

"Yeah, it's so he doesn't have to go to an orphanage." He trailed off and folded his arms across his chest.

"I'm so glad you changed your mind." Gine beamed with happiness, and stepped forward to embrace him.

Part of Bardock just wanted to reach out and fold the petite female into his arms like before, feel her warmth against his skin. No, he could not give in. He could not be manipulated by her again, fall into old patterns. Instead of reciprocating, he took a step back to put distance between them, so he would not feel her gentle touch.

It was just one simple step, but it was enough to wipe the smile from Gine's gentle features and crush the hope in her heart. The light in her eyes faded and became dull. She cast her eyes to the ground and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears that were sure to follow.

".. Oh… I see." Her lower lip quivered. "I'll let my father know, then."

"Thanks, that would be a big help." Barock regretted the flippant reply the second it came out of his mouth.

"I have to go now, Bardock. You can see yourself out, right?" Gine's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. She turned her back to him, diminished, and wrapped her arms tight around her torso as if to protect the growing life inside.

There was nothing else to say, so Bardock decided to get the hell out before she began to wail and pull him back in. He made it to the front stoop before Gine's voice reached out.

"It's … a girl, Bardock. I … thought … you should know." Small sobs punctuated each word.

Bardock did not know how to reply, did not trust himself to. A girl child - they were so rare!.. Instead of responding, he simply closed the door so he could not hear Gine cry. He stood still in the heat for a few seconds and waited for the lump in his throat to go down before gathering his Ki and taking off for Section Five and his appointment with Paragus.

_Thank the Gods that's done._

Mission complete. He was free of Gine, had taken responsibility and gotten Skallon off of his back. Now he could continue building his career, making a name for himself. It was what he had wanted.

Right?

So, why did he feel like such a dick?

 


End file.
